Got a phone call tonight about 20:00 Sounded like a Somali telemarketer. "Ees dees Doenald?"
Give me a freakin' break, right? But I said yes, willing to see one more card before setting the phone down until bleepin' telemarketer realizes that she's talking to an open wire and hangs up.
"Your xray shows that your rib number 10 is fractured."
This response and report on Sunday night, weekend, on a minor and obviously non-urgent matter.
"I understand. What course of further treatment should I pursue?"
"Pain management."
"That's it?"
"Yes"
Can't beat this doc for succinct, right?
Works fer me. I have the ribwrap she gave me yesterday. It's not therapeutic, more for comfort and it does help a little. While shopping for stuff for Mary I glommed a bigger bottle of Advil ibuprophen gelcaps since they seem to work quite well for me. I'd never taken ibuprophen before. I haven't taken one since 1600 this afternoon and I'm not hurting enough to drop one now but I probably will take one when I go to bed to ensure a good sleep. I'm not averse to using meds to manage pain but I'm wary as hell about it. Years ago I refused all pain meds during recovery from cholosysectomy (gall bladder removal) because I thought they'd delay my recovery. I later learned that it wouldn't have made any difference. The nurses at the hospital were clearly amazed at how I toughed that out. They probably thought I was really dumb. They were probably right.
My wife-at-the-time was quite annoyed that I didn't appreciate her dutiful visits and incessant jabber. She was meeting her needs, not mine. I just wanted to be left the hell alone so I could focus on pain control. That excluded her. Well duh, it excluded everyone and everything. Totally self-centric, which I thought wasn't unreasonable at the time.
My uncle, a dentist, later told me it's a form of self hypnosis that can be nearly as effective as anasthesia for those that can master it. Oy din't know that at the time but I did know from military training that attitude and discipline could be very powerful allies in coping with misery. It works best for the young and strong, as soldiers tend to be.
I will go ahead and shoot tomorrow at the gunsmoke social and luncheon, no good reason not to. If Mozambique drill with .45 hurts then I'll immediately unload and clear the piece and continue with a .22. I'll minimize the load to 3 handguns in the rangebag and two calibers in the ammo bag, and I'll park in the handicapped spot (using Mary's tag) and left-handedly carry in one bag at a time.
During my several weeks of convalescence I shall daintily demur and desist from shovelling wet cement, sand or gravel, mounting 12" chucks on the lathe or Kurt vises on the mill, jumping out of perfectly good airplanes, amphibious assaults, rassling alligators and shooting rhinos and cape buffalo with a .470 Nitro Express rifle.