The bruising is spectacular. J-F says it looks like Saturn.
The flesh of my buttock is now augmented by a hard, grapefruit-sized lump. Sitting hurts; moving is awkward.
It seems I must've put out a hand to break my fall after all — a tough reflex to inhibit. My thumb and wrist are tender, and on close inspection there is a shallow scrape across the meat of my palm.
I'd wanted to go for a walk with Helena today — get some air, buy some fruit. But I'm not sure I can carry her down and then up again to the third floor, let alone with a diaper bag and any shopping we pick up.