The weather has been warming up. I love it because I can get out and walk around my neighborhood, as well as other places; I love being outside for exercise or just for the heck of it, and this week has been a good one for that.

In fact, on Monday evening, I already had my step goal done for the day, but after walking the dog, I asked my husband why on earth we weren’t out walking the neighborhood for a nice stroll after dinner. He agreed; a few minutes later, we headed out the door for a lazy turn around the block.

We got no further than around the corner from our house when we passed a neighbor’s lovely backyard area; we always admire it because she’s done such a lovely job designing an outside area. Frogs were singing — but that’s not what my husband heard; he took off toward the neighbor’s outside seating area, and then I heard it — groans of pain. I followed him; we found our elderly neighbor on the ground, holding her head. She was awake and could answer questions, but was obviously in distress, so we made the quick decision to call 911.

We stayed with her while the paramedics worked with her, finally making the decision that she should go to the hospital to be checked over, since she had tripped on a carpet and hit her head on the concrete, as well as landing on a shoulder that had recently been through surgery. The good news is that she was able to return home later that night and is fine.

I’m not sure what little nudge pushed us out the door, but I’m a big believer in trusting instincts. Sometimes, you don’t even know, though, that you’re being nudged.

It’s situations like this — the sudden choices we have to make — that teach us how far we’ve come. For so many years, I had a deep fear of falling; I even mentioned it in the first post I made in this journey, quoted at the beginning of last week’s blog. I knew, without a doubt, that any time I fell, I could do serious damage; an extended arm to break a fall could result in a broken arm or worse. The force of a nearly 400-pound body on any body part could stress, break, or shatter it.

I spent a large amount of time, back then, playing “what if” — what if I fall, what should I do? I had to plan so much of my life in advance that it became second nature. How far is it from the parking lot to the front door? Is there a place to sit and rest? Are there stairs? If so, how many? What do I do if the restaurant is crowded and I can’t squeeze between the backs of chairs to get in or out? What if the only seating they have is bar stools?

As I’ve lost weight and replaced important body parts, I’ve lost nearly all of that situational anxiety — but I instantly felt it for my neighbor, seeing areas that, while beautiful to the eye, were trip hazards. And my mind filled in the “what if” — what if we hadn’t gone on that walk? If we, or someone else, hadn’t found her and helped her? Would she have just eventually gotten up and gone inside, and been okay — or not?

It appears she’ll make a full recovery, and may never have needed our assistance except to help her up, but the what if could have gone in the other direction, too. We would have felt horrible if she had not gone to the hospital and actually had a brain bleed or concussion.

We all live with certain assumed risks from the moment we roll out of bed in the morning. Sometimes we know what the risks are and accept them; sometimes we are unaware of the risks we take with choices and actions. I’d rather we lean on each other than fall alone.