One Sunday at church this past summer, an extremely sweet guy friend greeted me with a big, rib-cracking hug. Literally. A couple minutes later, I was on the way to the emergency room, wincing at every bump in the road.
Clumsy injuries tend to follow me around on a daily basis. It is not unusual to hear an “Ouch!” around my house, undoubtably resulting from my walking into a table or slightly missing a doorway. I even managed to get a concussion from hitting my head on a lab table in biology during my freshman year.
My common scrapes never take a horrible toll, but unfortunately the rib accident had more costly results. According to the doctor who treated me at Children’s Hospital Central California, the two fractured ribs would ache for two weeks and take a total of four weeks to heal.
This news was quite terrifying as, at that point, I was hardly able to breathe or move on my own. Two impending weeks of pain were sneaking up on me. Along with the promise of constant aches, I was instructed to completely avoid physical activity, including swimming. It seemed a sin to keep a California girl from the water all summer.
At the very least, I was relieved to have only minimal damage, since the doctors and nurses were worrying about a pneumothorax (a collapsed lung). Three years ago my older brother, Will had a spontaneous pneumothorax. Knowing about his experience, I breathed a sigh of relief (or tried to), knowing that my situation was far less critical.
Looking at more of the bright sides, my condition provided a perfect opportunity for puns. When alumna Alex Aleman visited me later that day and asked “What’s cracking?” I responded with a smile and weak laugh, “My ribs!” Because my rib-cracking friend enjoys puns more than I do, we were able to share laughs over the matter. No harm done!
Though the story was fun to tell at first, it soon became repetitive, and I knew exactly what responses to expect. People are still eager to throw in their two cents of medical knowledge, telling me to up my calcium intake, or simply stay away from hugs altogether. Needless to say, my clumsy moments will not be lived down anytime soon.
To my delight, my ribs were significantly better just after one night of sleep. Although I still had issues merely lifting a pillow, I felt remarkably better. By the next week, pain only came in occasional quick spurts. The speedy recovery was a huge blessing, which made my summer a lot more bearable.
For more columns on summer experiences, read the Aug. 26 column, England: ‘The right side of the world’.
