Dangerous to be alive: part I

I'm clumsy, have been most of my life - but that last few months have been dangerous. I'm always tripping, and unfortunately, sometimes falling. I can recount some of the more tragic times like they were yesterday. Biffed it outside of my hotel in Paris in front a group of Japanese tourists; biffed it at a busy intersection in my go-go boots, where a man was kind enough to point out I may have dropped something; biffed it going up the parking garage stairs in the evening, so that anyone looking would have seen it occur in spot-light form through the large window with stairwell lighting.
It happended again on Friday, hours before the single's retreat, and minutes after establishing a payment plan for my physical therapy (after my nasty Alaska fall-PT told me chronic ankle sprainers often suffer from weak ankles the rest of their lives)...I was walking home from work, for lunch. I made it all the way downtown, across the street, across the lawn of the park and was so close to my door and then the next thing I know: concrete - in my face! Somehow my left foot slipped in my shoe and I biffed it. All the contents of my bag were on the ground around me - papers, pens, 6 lip glosses (none of which is quite the right color) and even some unmentionables. I mumbled a curse word and then began the struggle of getting up, discretely checking to see if anyone saw my tummble. My left knee instantly hurt and sure enough I skinned it up pretty bad - I hobbled back to work and then down to the courthouse and then back to work - then the pain really started to set in - all stiff and tender.
How does this happen? Why doesn't it happen more often? How is everyone walking around?

My injury slowed me down on the retreat, couldn't go on the hike, slept lightly, as with each turn in the night, shooting pain. I hate being the one hobbling around, slower and needing sympathy.
Things are better with the knee now, still a little tender on stairs and a nasty scab, but everthing is working.

Yesterday I went home (for lunch again - this time driving) I changed shoes, because the pair I was wearing had given me a blister on both feet. At the end of my lunch, and with a new pair of shoes, I headed back to my car with a letter I had received in hand, I began to skim my grandfather's illegible handwriting and wouldn't you know - down I go.

I'm looking at complete disability by 30. Do you think they sell walkers in a stylish black, or fall-look tweed?
-J