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Funny ha-ha-ouch.
Jan. 25th, 2010 03:06 pmThere are times, sparse though they be, that I wish I believed in volition in nature—if not deity (and NOT deity, thanks very much) at least some sort of cognition to the universe as a whole. Alas, I do believe only we humans and not the universe can chuckle about stuff like this:
On Sunday, January 16 (as I have reported here) I followed up on my mugging-related rib injury with a call to my doctors' office's emergency line; my own doc's partner, Dr Douglas Ward, called me back and said, in brief, 'No x-ray. Have some Vicodin.' I had some Vicodin. Now I have none.
Why is the Vicodin gone?
Anyway, for whatever reason, I had a dreadful yesterday and a worse yesternight. Aspirin just hasn't been keeping the pain demons at bay; if anything my ribcage pain seems to have generalized and spread out. So I called my docs' office again this morning, and my own doc, Ben Stearn, just called me back to say, 'Sorry to tell you, but you're screwed for a good three weeks. As am I, since a week and a half ago I fell and broke two ribs myself.' Assuming a week and a half means 10 or 11 days, that means Ol' Doc Stearn busted his ribs a day or two before I did, and we're both having the same residual problem with pain management.
Seriously, it makes me want to giggle, except that would hurt. (An episode of The Family Guy last night probably set my recovery back two days.)
I wonder if pavement-broken ribs are more or less painful than brigand-broken ones?
On Sunday, January 16 (as I have reported here) I followed up on my mugging-related rib injury with a call to my doctors' office's emergency line; my own doc's partner, Dr Douglas Ward, called me back and said, in brief, 'No x-ray. Have some Vicodin.' I had some Vicodin. Now I have none.
Why is the Vicodin gone?
Anyway, for whatever reason, I had a dreadful yesterday and a worse yesternight. Aspirin just hasn't been keeping the pain demons at bay; if anything my ribcage pain seems to have generalized and spread out. So I called my docs' office again this morning, and my own doc, Ben Stearn, just called me back to say, 'Sorry to tell you, but you're screwed for a good three weeks. As am I, since a week and a half ago I fell and broke two ribs myself.' Assuming a week and a half means 10 or 11 days, that means Ol' Doc Stearn busted his ribs a day or two before I did, and we're both having the same residual problem with pain management.
Seriously, it makes me want to giggle, except that would hurt. (An episode of The Family Guy last night probably set my recovery back two days.)
I wonder if pavement-broken ribs are more or less painful than brigand-broken ones?
