Post #662569 by kraken on Sat, Dec 29, 2012 1:13 AM

Many thanks, Wendy, for your encouraging reaction
to my cancer episode, and the enlightenment you
provided regarding my aerial blood spurt during the
ill-fated needle stick. Next, a couple of pre-kindergarten
fiascos that make it surprising that I'm alive these days
to write this stuff.

When I was born my family lived in a vintage house on
the edge of a little-used canal originally built for freight
boats in the colonial era. Early on my parents would take
me outside to play near the canal, and my favorite game
was to throw small branches into the water. But all too
frequently I would forget to let go of the branch as I
threw it, so of course I'd wind up in the canal along with
the branch. Fortunately my father watched me closely
and fished me out quite quickly.

Very shortly thereafter we moved to a two-story house
with a long inside staircase (luckily carpeted). From
time to time I would trip as I started down the stairs,
and invariably tumble all the way to the bottom. (My
father was certain that I merely forgot to step down at
the top step.) I clearly recall intense soreness lasting an
hour or more on each part of me that had bounced off
a stair on the way down, and I cannot explain why I
never broke a bone. Nor do I know why it took me such
a long while to form a reliable habit of making sure I
carefully stepped down off the top step.