Thursday afternoon, snow storm on Cape Cod, nice fluffy pretty snow flakes. The birds are standing around the grape arbor looking dismal and hungry, so out I go to fill the feeders from the barrels of seed in the garage. As I walked across the driveway I spaced out on the fact that most of the yard is covered by four inches of solid shiny ice deposited there by a big rain storm on Tuesday night. Fluffy snow + black ice = slapstick fun.
One second I am shuffling along in the crisp New England air, three birdfeeders in my hands. The next I am on my back, staring at the sky, my mouth filled with black thistle seeds.
I look to my right and the thistle tube is shattered. I realize, in order:
a) my head really hurts and I do indeed see stars.
b) my left elbow won’t bend
c) my left knee hurts
d) I feel something very wrong on the right side of my back.
So I slowly stand up. Look around, think, “That must be what it’s like to get run over by a car.”
And I hobbled inside, covered with snow, to tweet: “just absolutely nuked myself – slipped on icy driveway, flipped in air, landed on head …. chugging advil”
Friday morning I woke up feeling very beaten and bruised, but it wasn’t until I sneezed that I realized there was something significantly wrong with my rib-cage somewhere low on my back. The pain was cosmic. So I called the doctor, went to see him, and yep, broken rib.
How broken? When I move I can feel the broken ends grind against each other.
Impact on life? No CRASH-B sprints in February. No serious exercise. Too many pain killers. And I’m pissed off.
But the birds got their bird seed.