ast weekend, down in the French Quarter, I cracked a rib. (I'm way behind in my journaling, in general. I know. So I've yet to even mention last weekend's exploration to the more touristy sites of New Orleans.) I accidentally bumped into a precariously-balanced storage container, which began to topple down on top of me, and in the most graceless attempt ever to dodge such a thing, I managed to make myself feel the old familiar POW! of this upper left rib give way. It appears to be a perennial problem: it's the same rib Erik famously broke when he threw me into the "Stonehenge" pool at Notre Dame in May 1996, celebrating his and the bulk of the Freeks' graduations the midnight after the ceremony. I broke it again a few years back in Milwaukee, and now here. It's my fourth or fifth time breaking a rib, so I'm used to the fallout: with no evidence of any other complications, like a compound fracture busting through my chest or a pierced lung, I just have to baby it for three weeks or so.
I was starting to feel a little less tender, now that six days had passed. Then this afternoon, in a burst of the kind of brilliance that could someday win me a Darwin Award
, I was running errands prior to heading into the office for some work. I had stopped over at Zara's Grocery to grab a few supplies to leave at home before heading into the university, and as I walked toward the checkout, I shifted the very full, very heavy basket I was carrying from my right hand to the left hand. Immediately upon taking the weight, the cracked rib, which is just a little under and forward of my left arm went POP-POW!
, hurting far more this time than the original cracking. And lucky me, when I was packing for my move in July I threw away the velcro first-aid rib-wrap I had bought back in 2007. Along with keeping the ribs a bit more immobilized (which, of course, you cannot do entirely and still breathe, which is always part of the fun of a broken rib), it clearly would help as a bit of a needed reminder for me. I'll have to build a hat that holds a sign in front of my face, I guess, reminding me not to lift things with my left arm....I
n the meantime, sitting still on the couch in the later afternoon reminded me to turn on the Notre Dame game, where I got to see them almost
come back and take it from Michigan, including a 95 yard touchdown pass (the second longest in Irish history, which was amazing to watch), and even to see Dan O'Brien in a Xerox commercial hamming it up in an argument with the Notre Dame Leprechaun.O
h, and my package from Apple that's been traveling all over the country
finally arrived yesterday. In the 2+ weeks it took to get here (twice traveling through Memphis), I was amused to see that it was aided on its journey by a tag that read:
Time-Sensitive Material. Please Expedite."