We called my doctor and, in typical Dr. Kim fashion, he's all booked up until late next week. My wife immediately went into urgent care mode. Usually I fight her about it, saying that we don't have the time, the kids will be monsters in the waiting room, it will take hours, blah blah blah. But my side hurt like hell and I couldn't deny that something was seriously wrong with me so I said yes. We were taking care of Deinna, too, so Natasha and I and three kids rolled into urgent care downtown and in ten minutes I was in a waiting room all by myself. It was cool, though, because I had a book to write in and my iPod to comfort me. The song "Checkout Blues" by The Eels especially comforted me as I sat there alone for an hour.
I got x-rays done. And yeah, I'm all fucked up again. The doctors say I have a fractured rib and severe chest damage. How I was able to work and play like I have been for the past week and a half is beyond me and my doctors. The reasons are probably a mixture of things but the MAIN REASON why is my new workout regiment which is "work the fuck out as hard as I humanly can until it's time to leave." That's not good, apparently. I have to take it easy. I can;t do anything that makes it feel bad, which includes lifting heavy objects, lifting the kids, bending over, breathing, walking and standing. Work tomorrow is going to be hell. But I have a note. I need like four or six breaks tomorrow. I'm wearing a rib compressor that itches like hell. I also have vicodin that knocks me the hell out.
I'm all sorts of fucked up. I don't like this. I hurt like hell. My body doesn't like me.