I’m an accident waiting to happen. No lie. I’ve been physically active all my life so it’s bound to happen that I’ll have my fair share of injuries, but come on! I have had my fill, thank you very much. It would be nice if my guardian angel started doing her job a little better, don’t you think?

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not putting all the blame on her, mainly because I’m guessing my guardian angel is my mom. But I’m beginning to think she’s having too much fun in Heaven to pay the necessary attention one requires of their guardian angel. After all, my dad is there (the love of her life), her parents, her brothers and sister, and all of her friends. No doubt she’s a bit distracted.

My earliest injury memory is falling on some glass at age eight while wrestling with a neighbor boy. As you know from reading my post, Forever a Tomboy, I was a tomboy who needed stitches on the side of my right knee. And so the accidents began…

Fast forward to my softball-playing years from age 20-30, where I dislocated that same knee hitting my best ever line drive. Well hello, Emergency Room. Another time, I broke my thumb when it got in front of my mitt in an attempt to complete a triple play from me at shortstop to Mandy at second, to Sue at first. (We did it.)

At my first soccer practice after softball ended, I dislocated the same knee, only this time I popped it back in myself. No visit to the ER. Live and learn, right?

On to tennis…not long after joining Marin Tennis Club, I rolled my ankle and fractured it during a tournament. My mixed doubles partner carried me off the court. (How embarrassing.) I’ve had so many injuries during my 40 years of tennis that my teammates once presented me with a trophy covered in bandages. They thought it was hysterical.

Then there was the time Mandy and I were on my motorcycle. We stopped to visit friends and the cycle fell over, crushing that same ankle against the gutter. ER here we come again…

Also, I once dislocated my shoulder blade as a passenger in a golf cart while we sped down the fairway. I never saw the bump that nearly catapulted me from the cart.

Then, there’s the time at age 55 when Hilary got me involved in snowboarding. I know…what was I thinking, right? But it was fun until I started falling. Again. And Again. Who should I blame? (Not me, of course.) I can’t decide between Hilary or our friend Patty, who invited us for cocktails at her timeshare near the base of the mountain. This is where I learned that ice and lemon drop martinis do not mix — unless the ice is in my glass and not beneath my snowboard.

Suffice it to say my butt was unrecognizable, even to me. Those falls kicked off subsequent years of back issues: a herniated disc and pesky sciatica. But I loved every minute when I wasn’t face-planting or butt-bruising.

Lest you think that’s it, I had plantar fasciitis for seven months. No tennis. No running. No fun. I also have a bone spur in my foot and my shoulder. And I recently took two months off from tennis because of that pesky sciatica. You won’t believe this, but the day I came back, I fell on the court and sprained my wrist.

I’ve been in a splint about three weeks and am scheduled to see an orthopedist this Friday. So who can I blame this time? My vote: my new K-Swiss tennis shoes. They stuck to the court like glue. But hey, it’s not all bad…

Not long ago, I fell down the stairs while holding a cup of coffee in one hand and my phone in the other. (Bad idea.) Everything went flying, including me. Sorta like snowboarding. But nothing broke, not even the coffee cup! If you ask me, I’d say the tide is turning, wouldn’t you?

But wait…I slammed my hand in my car door a couple of days ago, but the metal in my splint saved me from breaking anything. Yep, I’d say things are lookin’ up!