I've been doing a few household jobs for my mother all week long, and this morning's task seem simpled enough: pack up and store a few boxes in the attic. It was 8 not too large boxes, light stuff, nothing over 25 pounds. Piece of cake right? I didn't expect it to take 20 minutes to get them all up there once the boxes were taped shut.
I had about half of the load up before coming back down for the other half, when lo and behold the folding ladder into the attic buckled on me, throwing me completely off balance. I managed to grab one side of the hatch and dangled there by one arm for perhaps 2 seconds before slipping, although it felt like half a minute.
I came down pretty hard, and managed somehow to hit the refridgerator as I did. Smashed right up against it, and then hit the concrete, with the small of my back crashing into the base of the ladder.
It felt wonderful. Not only was it like being kicked in the small of the back by Chuck Norris, it knocked the living snot out of me. Sadly I've been in this situation before and I know the only and best thing you can do is lie there and try to think of something pleasant while air refills your lungs and you have the power to move again.
Anyway I said a few choice words I am glad no one was around to hear and finished up. Smarts a little bit, but no harm done except to my ego.
I was reflecting almost immediately thereafter however how I had crashed into the ladder on the small of my back, and how despite how much it hurt, the impact was actually spread out over across the entire width of my back and not concentrated on my spine. If I'd had a gun there that really could have been bad. I might still be in the floor because I'm the only one here for several hours yet.
I was carrying at the time at 2:30 IWB, and am glad I was because I didn't land on my gun. Even if I had I think the worst consequence would have been a bruised hip.
Something to think about.