45 Degrees North: Finding Balance

Recently, I found myself on the ground looking up at the sky and the outstretched hands of friends who tried to keep me from falling after a misstep. I wasn’t injured, thanks to a fortuitous distribution of padding on my backside and a thick skull. And if witnesses are to be believed (which I choose to do), my slow-motion fall was remarkably graceful. There was relieved laughter once it was clear I was okay. 

Except, I think, from the friend who broke her hip last year. She broke it trying to jump her e-bike over a patch of ice. An e-bike is not a dirt bike, and she is in her 70s, not her 40s. I share this as a reminder not to assume that rural elders are unhealthy couch potatoes. My friend’s fall resulted in hip replacement surgery, a painful recovery, and missing a whole season of kayaking and biking. She is active again now. But that fall put a tiny chink in her confidence, and my silly fall probably didn’t feel silly to her. 

I’ve been meaning to write about balance and fall prevention programs for some time (although the e-bike jump was an unexpected twist). In 2023, Wisconsin had the highest rate of fall-related death in the nation among adults aged 65 and older. 

But personally, as a rural elder in Wisconsin, it’s the non-fatal falls that concern me even more. EMS responses to falls are increasing, and that can strain emergency medical services that are already stretched thin. The distance to treatment and both inpatient and outpatient rehabilitation services makes the consequences of a fall even more challenging for a rural patient’s family. So preventing falls sounds like a good plan.

That goes double for me. I was injured by a drunk driver in 1998, leaving me with an unreliable knee and proprioception challenges that sometimes make me slow to catch myself if I start to fall. Like that day recently when I stepped backwards for someone to take a picture, and slo-mo splatted on my backside. So, yes, I’ll be asking at my upcoming annual Medicare wellness visit for a referral to a balance program.

I’d been wondering if I could convince my husband to do a balance program with me. He, too, is active. But we have noticed some things that are concerning. 

At his next eye appointment, I want him to see about getting glasses without correction for near and middle distances. Wearing trifocals makes him feel unsteady when walking on uneven ground and stairs. So he doesn’t wear his glasses on our walks or while hunting or fishing, and so has no distance vision correction.

At his next Medicare wellness visit, I want him to ask about orthostatic hypotension. When he gets out of bed too fast, he tends to stumble. And sometimes when he gets out of his recliner, the first few steps are unpredictable. That can’t be blamed on medication, since he doesn’t take any. 

We’ve talked about those concerns. We talked about them again after the owl rescue. When I asked then if he would do balance therapy with me, his answer was an emphatic yes. 

Here’s what happened. One morning, as he scrolled through Facebook, he saw that the Raptor Education Group near us had just posted this: 

FISHING LINE ENTANGLED OWL ROSE LAKE NEEDS HELP!!! 

We have an emergency situation with an adult great horned owl entangled in fishing line and hanging about 6 feet over Rose Lake which is north of Langlade, WI. The finder, a kayaker, reported the owl is out of her reach…

Bill asked if I wanted to go rescue an owl. Duh. So he went to load a canoe and a couple of saws, in case we had to cut a branch. I loaded a cardboard box, knives, and some old blankets, and grabbed a hoodie in case I got wet and chilled in the endeavor. 

On our way to Rose Lake, he called to speak with the kayaker about her location – an island where we picnic when we paddle that lake. Thanks to the 2019 derecho that knocked down so many trees in that area, she was able to get a signal to call REGI and to take calls from Bill on the water, where she and her companion were waiting near the owl.

I spoke to REGI, told them our plan, and how we were equipped. They suggested using the hoodie to mask the owl before trying to free it. 

From the boat launch, we proved to ourselves that we can still sprint in the 14.6-foot Mad River Winooski that Bill used to duck hunt from. It’s the most stable canoe we own, but not the fastest. 

As we approached the island, we could see spots of color from the two kayakers who had found the bird. The owl (actually a barred owl) was hanging from an outstretched wing, tangled in fishing line that dangled from a tree overhanging the water. The bottom drops off quickly there, and the water was too deep to reach the owl by wading. The tree looked sturdy enough for me to shinny out and cut the line from above, but dropping the bird from that height over water presented new problems on how to capture it. Bill thought he could reach the bird if he stood up in the canoe. 

So we positioned the canoe perpendicular to the shoreline. One of the kayakers stood near the shore and held one end to stabilize the boat. I waded out to stabilize the other end. My 5’7” husband got to his feet in the canoe. That was exciting. He reached up with the hoodie and was able to get it over the owl’s eyes and get control of the bird. I handed up a saw, and he used that to cut the fishing line. He lowered the bird into the open cardboard box we had in the canoe.

Cell phone service wasn’t the only miracle that day. There was some windmilling of arms, but Bill didn’t fall during the rescue operation. I didn’t fall while wading on slippery rocks. The bird did not sustain further injuries from our efforts: X-rays showed no fractures in the wing. We look forward to helping release the owl after he regains his strength.

But we may have depleted our quota of miracles on the owl rescue. And we still live where snow and ice are concerns for five months out of the year. We still have a life where an old dog gets underfoot at times. Where we sometimes make rushed movements, or multitask unwisely, or carry more than makes sense. We are not frail elders, and prefer not to become frail elders for as long as possible.

If that time comes while we’re still aging in place in our rural home, it will make sense to get a wearable medical alert system. In the meantime, it makes sense for us to improve our balance and make some behavioral changes, like those recommended by the Fall Prevention Foundation:

Move slowly when standing up or changing direction.

Pause to steady yourself after getting out of bed or a chair.

Use both hands on railings when using stairs.

Don’t carry objects that block your view while walking.

Avoid multitasking while moving, such as walking while texting or holding conversations.

I also want to practice fall recovery techniques. Because it only takes one step sometimes for me to end up tail over teakettle. And because, while I don’t anticipate making more canoe-based owl recoveries, my husband and I are probably not done making sketchy choices.

The National Council on Aging offers this free online questionnaire for self-assessing your fall risk.

Donna Kallner writes from Langlade County in rural northern Wisconsin.

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