This is my best advice: don’t fall and break your pelvis.

My advice is this: don’t fall and fracture your pelvis, okay?

However, if you ignore this ancient wisdom, as I did recently, you may have the chance to see the sun rise every morning from your hospital bed. And, as with any accident that could have been even worse, you will be glad you can see it, from there or from anywhere.

Of course, we don’t have to wait for a calamity to strike to appreciate all the little moments that only add up to make everything better. But this unexpected detour has increased my gratitude for many things, including the nurses and technicians who not only keep patients alive but also do much of the physical labor and breathing that makes recovery possible.

The last two times I was in the hospital, after I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2002 and then again in 2003 when our children were young, for a long time I didn’t tell almost anyone. I felt very alone going through the first round of treatment, mostly alone in Washington, DC, while my family was in Rome, where we had been living. But I was the one who insisted they come back right after my surgery because I had school. And in retrospect, I wish I had let more friends come to help me. In trying to keep my composure, I was not a very good member of my own health care team.

In the 20+ years since then, I’ve at least learned enough not to make the same mistake again.

I have always believed there is some truth in that quote attributed to Ram Dass: “We all walk each other home.”

So why so much shame about the human condition? In the last month alone, I lost a friend who didn’t know he was sick until near the end of his life, and another who minimized her medical suffering so effectively, even to herself, that she didn’t call 911. Sometimes those who are the first to help others are the last to realize or say they need it.

Someone I have been in communication with quite a bit recently announced on social media that he has been recovering from a serious medical issue for years and is only now telling us that he is well, or close to well.

Of course, I understand. When you’re already at a low point, reaching out can be exhausting, and we have to respect those who choose to say just a little to just a few. People have their reasons for keeping their injuries and illnesses to themselves. Because they’re their reasons, not ours, which means we don’t get a vote.

But this time I’m making a different decision for myself and I’m telling you this because I think you deserve to know where I went.

After a week, I was transferred to an intensive care inpatient rehabilitation unit at the same hospital, where I receive three hours of physical therapy a day. The next few weeks here are not going to be like summer camp.

I was supposed to be in another health care facility right now, with my 91-year-old mother who needs help with almost everything. Suddenly, I’m the one who fits that description, and my daughter, who just the other day stood up and was so adamant in my defense after a physical therapist said some things he shouldn’t have said.

Looks like I’m where I’m supposed to be. See you back here soon.