You’ll never guess what happened. Never. Try. Go ahead. Try. No that wasn’t it but I like the way you think. Ok, here it is: I either broke another rib or rebroke the same one in a different spot. Soooo anyhoo, me and the doc are getting to know each other REALLY WELL. Now before you go accusing me of sneaking off the gym and working out, I was actually choking to death when this happened.

Stop laughing. See, I was drinking some water and somehow I inhaled while drinking which caused the water to go down the wrong pipe. And then I exploded into a coughing fit shooting water out my mouth and all over the floor. Thank God I wasn’t in public. Then son #2 helpfully said “Mom, you shouldn’t throw up all over the floor. You should lean over the sink. That’s what I do.” Each cough put incredible pressure on my ribs while I was desperately trying to stop it. And then I felt a tug and a pop. And each cough after that was even more excrutiating. Sigh.

So now I’m walking all hunched over again like a 92 year old lady. And I’m breathing like Roseanne Barr trying to climb a flight of stairs or tie her shoe. Either way, it’s no good. Because. Each. Breath. Hurts.

Doc gave me new and different drugs. I passed on the narcotics again. Narcotics are just SO 1980’s. I mean, what’s the point of getting high? I got kids. They’re the ultimate buzz kill. ;) I’d be all in the zone, listening to Pink Floyd, watching shadows chase each other all over the wall when the school would call. You know they would. And it would be something like “Yeah, um, we’ve got son #1 here and uh, well there was an incident (it’s always an ‘incident’.) And well, his leg bone is sticking through the skin. I can see where they put those screws in, by the way, awesome job they did. But uh, can you come get him and take him to the hospital?” And I’d be like “Well, um, I’m really high right now and I’ve been watching this fly stuck in a spider web for like the last two hours and it looks like he might try to get away, and I want to see what happens, so like, do you think you could call an ambulance? And I’ll meet ya’ll there when this shit wears off in about 6 hours. MmmKay?” Yeah. It’d SO go like that.

Today I told the doc “Look, I haven’t been able to work out in a MONTH. You don’t understand how that is for me. Some people have gotta have chocolate, some people have gotta have drugs, I GOTTA HAVE MY WORKOUTS.” He tried not to snort when he laughed.

The new plan is that I go back next week. They inject me with a whole bunch of radioactive crap. I walk around for like three hours and glow or something and come back and they watch my bones glow on a TV set. Or some of you may know that as a bone scan.

I’ve got TWO lidocaine patches slapped on me now. Except, I keep having evil thoughts of all the really funny things I could do with it. Like walk by Steve and slap one on his ass and wait until he notices he no longer has feeling in his left buttock. Or smack one on his chest while he’s sleeping, wait for it to kick in and then wax his chest. He’s particularly picky about the nipple area. I could cut some into round shapes. Maybe when I ripped them off, all the hair would come with it. Ok, I gotta stop laughing. It hurts like hell to laugh. Laughing. Must. Stop. Where are those fighting kids when you need them?!

I’m going to go sit and watch some TV. Nothing funny, mind you, because that would hurt. No funny comments either. Just looking for more buzz kill here. ;)