Humor Columnist



















Meet the Columnist

Columnist, Sheila Moss, is humor writer from  Tennessee. She writes  a weekly human interest column about daily life and the funny things that happen to everyone.

   She has written for  the Daily News of Kingsport,   Griffin Journal, Oakridge Now, Atlanta Woman Magazine, Aberdeen Examiner, Angleton Advocate,  and Smyrna AM, a supplement of the Murfreesboro Daily News Journal. She has been published by Voyageur Press, McGraw Hill, and the good folks at Guidepost Books.  Her articles have appeared in numerous anthologies and other publications, both in print and online.

    She is a former board member and past  Editor of  the, website of  the National Society of Newspaper Columnists, the oldest and largest professional organization for columnists. She is the Web Editor of Southern
  and  a founder of the Southern Humorists writers' organization. She is writer, editor, and webmaster of

    To carry her weekly column in your newspaper, or to republish an article, please contact her. It's that easy. 

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Help! I've fallen...

Help! I've fallen and can't get up!

I decided to treat myself to a pedicure, bright pink toes for summer. I went to the manicure shop at Walmart since I had other shopping to do also. After my nails were done, I headed for the shopping carts. Suddenly, I felt myself flying. As the floor rose up to greet my face, I realized I had fallen down.

Naturally, since I was right in front of all the checkout counters, people came running from all directions. "Are you okay?" "Are you hurt?" I was mentally congratulating myself for not hitting my head on the floor. "I'm okay," I said, meaning "I'm alive." 

My knee was throbbing like crazy, but the worst part was the embarrassment. People wanted to help me, but it was difficult to stand up. Two strong male employees appeared from the nether regions of the store and stood me up like a paper doll.

My left leg was rubber and buckled under me. Except for the good guys holding me up, I would have fallen again. Another worker rushed to get me a motorized cart. I decided to skip the shopping and go home. The Walmart guys followed me to my car and helped me get in.

In spite of the bad things people say about Walmart, their employees responded like polished pros in an emergency. Without them, I would still be laying on the floor.

My left leg was on fire and melting fast. "I think I will drive to the ER," I thought. Then I realized I could drive to the ER, but I could not get from the car to the hospital. I briefly considered 911 but decided it was not that much of an emergency. I drove home, only a few miles, scooted inside and sat on the kitchen floor to call Honey at work to come home and take me to the ER.

Hospital emergency rooms are always crazy places. Honey took me inside in a wheelchair but had to move the car, which was blocking traffic. By the time he got back, one of the other patients had helped me register on a kiosk and pushed me to the waiting area. "Where is the medical staff?" I wondered.

Eventually, I was admitted and taken to a curtained stretcher in the back. Since I had been a patient at the hospital before, the story of my life was already in the computer. The ER doctor eventually concluded my knee was not broken. He gave me a brace, a prescription for pain meds and advised me to follow up with an orthopedic doctor.

It was a long holiday weekend, and I could not see my doctor until Monday. I managed to miss all the Fourth of July festivities while stuck at home in a wheelchair. When I finally went to see an orthopedic doctor, he agreed that it was not broken and insisted that nothing much was wrong.

"What happens when you try to walk?"

"It hurts really bad, buckles, and I fall down."

"Try to walk."

I managed to drag my leg for a few steps, thinking all the time I was going to hit the floor again.

"Maybe you strained it. Use a walker for a month and come back. It could be cracked and not showing up yet."


I'm on my feet now instead of in a wheelchair. The knee seems to be getting a little stronger, but still tries to buckle.

My life as an invalid is not pretty. I can't do the tasks of daily living without help. The men at my house are not caretakers or housekeepers and things have gone south pretty quickly.

My beautiful pink pedicure was ruined by the fall. But I'm not going back to get it redone. I've decided that no pedicure is worth breaking a leg.


Copyright 2015 Sheila Moss

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