I suppose I should correct that. Broken rib, not ribs.
I still haven’t gone to the doctor (I know, I know, and there is nothing you can say that Courtney hasn’t already said). As near as I can tell, the biggest reason to go to the doctor is to find out whether I have internal injuries. Since it has been four days since I fell, I’m pretty confident I don’t have those internal injuries. Still, I know I’m going to hear it from some, and if my mother ever reads this… Heaven help me.
Up until now, I have assumed it was nothing more than a bruised or cracked rib, but early this morning, I rolled over in bed and heard an audible crack followed by a sweep of pain. As near as I can tell, I put pressure on the crack and managed to, shall I say, “finish it off.” Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much after that, and church was miserable. I just couldn’t get comfortable.
Of course my friends at church were entirely supportive saying that they’d give me a good “ribbing” and telling me that they’d nudge me if they needed anything. A friend in the Relief Society mentioned that they’d bring me a casserole. I said a double-brownie casserole would suit me just fine, thank you very much.
In an effort to find out as much as I could about the break, I checked WebMD. I often joke with Courtney that every “diagnosis” provided by Web MD is cancer. Still, it has some value…. Apparently I have six weeks of healing at least, and I get to “wait it out” so to speak. Joy. Outside of multiple fractures, the healing is largely done at home.
And such is life.
I once had a goal of making it through life without breaking a bone. I made it until I was about 24 when I dropped a pair of 45-lbs dumbbells on my hands (Hey Dave! Why do they call them dumbbells?). I only shattered two fingers. The other two fingers just kind of… popped. Now I can add a rib to the list of Things I’ve Broken.