18 francs would’ve saved me a world of pain
19.10.2022
Translation: Katherine Martin
Slipping in the shower isn’t just painful. It’s dangerous, too. I’ve learned the hard way that a little money could’ve spared me a lot of pain.
It’s 6 a.m. on a Saturday. It’s the weekend and I could be having a lie-in, but instead, I’m wide awake in bed. It’s been a miserable night. No matter which position I adopted, pain kept me awake. The origin of that pain was an unfortunate incident two days before,
on Thursday morning. Shortly after the sound of my alarm ripped me out of my slumber, I hit the shower. The thing is, all I’ve got in my bathroom is a much-too-small tub. It’s so narrow that I can’t stand inside it without my feet touching. I’d soaped up and leaned backwards to wash the shampoo out of my hair when it happened: I slipped.
Although it all happened in a matter of seconds, I experienced it in slow motion. I tried in vain to grab on to something. But instead, I lost my balance and fell backwards, hitting my lower back (roughly where the kidneys are) on the taps with full force, before landing in the tub. I lay motionless for a moment, before it occurred to me that this wasn’t just any old fall. This fall would have consequences.
Straightening up, I immediately felt the area I landed on stiffen. I didn’t feel any pain at that point. That, however, was still to come. I dried off, got dressed and went to my medicine cabinet, where I found an old Diclofenac ointment. I slathered it onto the injured spot on my back. The pain got increasingly worse as the day went on. Though still bearable on the first night, I could barely walk the following morning. My entire lower back was stiff, and every movement hurt. I dragged myself to the bathroom mirror and was stunned by the haematoma I saw when I pulled up my shirt. Ouch!
Get me a non-slip shower mat!
To prevent any more falls in the shower, I need to get myself a non-slip shower mat. Pronto. After a quick search, I strike gold. Though it might not sound like the sexiest of products – in fact, it’s probably more popular among the old and frail – I really do need one. Time to head over to the Galaxus website and check out the selection available. I’ve got 537 products to choose from. But each mat looks worse than the last.
There are fish-shaped ones, fish-print ones and diver-swimming-with-fish-print ones – not my style in the slightest. They look worse than wall stickers. Then there are ones that look like rows of stones or one large stone by itself in black, grey, white or a mixture of shades. All I want is a simple design, not some contrived, feel-good oasis for Facebook aunties in their 40s.
Finally, I hit the jackpot.
My new shower mat is called «Playa». It’s rectangular, black and minimalist: exactly my style. It’s made of 100 per cent synthetic rubber and is supposed to be really comfortable to stand on. I’m not actually bothered about whether my feet feel cushioned or not – I just don’t want them to lose their grip. And so far, Playa has kept its promise on that. Suction cups ensure it stays stuck to the tub, while its rubber grooves stop me from slipping on the surface of the mat.
Here’s my advice based on the wisdom I’ve gleaned from this experience. Sooner or later, you’re going to fall in the tub. With this in mind, it’s better to invest in a shower mat and put up with the fact that they’re not quite your cup of tea visually. Playa costs about the same as two packs of ibuprofen 400. And in the last few days, that’s only just been enough to keep my pain in check.
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