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Friday, October 12, 2007

My Fucked Up Body ...

... my ribcage has been hurting for about a week and a half. Throughout the past few days i've been holding my right side and occasionally moaning and, if I'm at home, screaming and whimpering. It hurts to lay down straight. That means I haven't been sleeping in bed with my wife lately. I've been sleeping on the (ugh) beanbag. It's a supersized beanbag and it's comfortable but I wake up sore as hell all over, especially on my neck. I wake up in the middle of the night if I roll onto my side. I can hardly bend down or reach up. I went with my family to work out yesterday afternoon and I found myself screaming, literally screaming. There were certain machines, certain workouts that I just couldn't do. Then later that night Natasha tried out her massage therapy book on me and the kids and the simple act of laying down on the floor made me cry, tears running down my face. Something was wrong.

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.


Anonymous said...

Damn, that's horrible. I'd say let me know if there's anything that I can do, but what can I do? I don't have no Jesus powers. If you want someone to hang with and drink beers while you recover, just give me a call, though.

I'm still mulling over the role you offered, by the way.

Anonymous said...

Tomorrow? Drinks? We will have the kiddos but who doesn't love to laugh at kids when you are drinking? I mean come on.
Let us know. Steve would like to hang out.