Exclusive Content

It was a normal night. Nothing spectacular.

Before laying down for the evening, I felt a little thirsty and headed downstairs to grab some water to get me through until morning. I had my laptop in one hand, my mind on nothing in particular, and my body doing what it’s done a thousand times before.

And then it didn’t.

The sole of my socked foot slipped on the edge of the carpeted stair. My computer took a nosedive first. I followed immediately after it.

My dog, clearly committed to self-preservation, sprinted ahead to avoid being a casualty — and didn’t even bother turning around to check on me. We’ll talk about that betrayal another time.

I didn’t hit the back of my head, thank God. But everything from my shoulders down was in pain. Because I have mitral valve prolapse, a fall like that isn’t something I take lightly, so I took myself to the ER.

There were no broken bones. What they did find was a pulmonary nodule — also something I’ll come back to. I won’t lie, that discovery scared the heck out of me. But what troubled me more, in that moment, was this: my balance had been so off that I cleared half a staircase on my butt.

Pause and ask questions

That had never happened to me before.

I wasn’t exhausted. I hadn’t been drinking. I wasn’t rushing. I wasn’t being reckless. By all accounts, I wasn’t a hazard to myself.

And then it clicked.

Socks.

Socks were the culprit.

Still, as I replayed the fall in my head, I realized something else: my reaction time was slower because my hands were full. I was holding onto my computer, which meant I didn’t instinctively catch myself the way I normally would have. Had I been more cautious — free hands, bare feet, lights fully on — I probably could have prevented the entire thing.

But here’s the honest truth: it’s hard to be constantly cautious when caution already governs so much of your life.

Sometimes you just want to get a glass of water.

And yet, the stakes are real. A broken ankle, leg, or hip isn’t just painful — it can mean weeks or months of healing. For those of us who live alone, it can also mean isolation, lost independence, and a major disruption to daily life.

This fall forced me to pause and ask myself some important questions — ones I think many of us with MS should be asking regularly:

• Have I noticed my balance feeling “off,” even slightly?
• Am I tripping or mis-stepping more often than I used to?
• Have I felt lightheaded, unsteady, or delayed in my reactions?
• Am I brushing off small moments because they don’t feel serious yet?

These subtle shifts matter.

Things worth paying attention to

• Feeling unsteady on stairs or uneven surfaces
• Slower reaction time when catching yourself
• Increased clumsiness or near-falls
• Lightheadedness or dizziness
• Needing to hold onto furniture or walls more often
• Feeling more confident barefoot than in socks or shoes

Not every moment such as this signals a major change — but patterns do. It’s important to keep your neurologist informed about significant changes, especially falls, sudden balance issues, or injuries. But it’s just as important to journal and note the subtle ones, too. The small things often show up first.

All it takes is one minor shift to set off a chain reaction. One thing slightly off balance can eventually make everything feel different.

As a Libra, balance is kind of my thing — or at least it’s supposed to be. This fall reminded me that balance isn’t just symbolic. It’s physical, neurological, and deeply personal. And sometimes maintaining it starts with noticing the smallest signs, even when they show up disguised as something as ordinary as me wearing socks that don’t leave me feeling all warm and cozy.