Living without a Balancing Mechanism

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Abstract
ONE morning, now about four years ago, I arranged in my pajama pocket toothpaste, toothbrush, razor and shaving soap, mounted my crutches and, with towel and facecloth hung over my shoulder, made my way across the hospital ward to the lavatory. In preparation for shaving, I wrung out the facecloth in steaming hot water, spread it over my hands and then held it to my face. Thus blindfolded, I suddenly lost my balance and fell sprawling on the floor. Unhurt but surprised, I picked myself up and looked around to see if someone had jostled me. There was no one . . .

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