My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are host the Slice of Life Story Challenge every Tuesday. Join us with teachers around the globe, sharing stories from our everyday life. Become a teacher who writes!
I broke a rib a few days ago. At least I’m pretty sure I did. I didn’t get and x-ray because I didn’t want to wait an hour at the ortho office. (Who’s got time for that?) I’ll see the doctor in a few weeks if it’s not better. It hurts to breath. I can’t twist my body or raise my left arm. I can’t lift anything, or bend over. BUT, I can walk, I can even pedal my bike as long as it’s flat. I went for a hike two days after I did it. So maybe it’s not broken.
Either way, I’m stuck not doing much for a while, which really sucks. I seem to always be the one in my family and in my friend group who is broken. Whether it’s a broken wrist, surgeries for skin cancer, sprained ankles, being pregnant, or post-pregnant, or whatever - there’s always something with me. So I’m kind of angry with myself for letting this happen.
So, the way it happened was that I flew over the handlebars of my mountain bike - like… actually flew. I had time in the air to yell OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD before I actually hit the ground, hard, flat on my stomach. I would have smashed my face if the brim of my helmet hadn’t broken the fall. I was lucky that I hit the ground on leaf covered dirt, rather than the rocks a few inches further.
I lay on the ground not moving for a really long time. Maybe I blacked out a little, maybe I didn’t. I was alone so I guess I’ll never know. When I finally tried to move, I just… couldn’t… and slowly became aware that the entire left side of my torso was in agony. So I lay there on the ground for an even longer time wondering if should call somebody. But finally, very, very, very slowly I rolled to the not so painful side and ever so carefully stood up. I felt relieved that I could stand up, thinking, “Okay, it can’t be THAT bad if I got up by myself.” Then I stood there not moving for a long time.
Eventually I began to push my bike… alllllllllll the way down the steep twisting trail. I’m not going to lie. It really really sucked. There was a lot of cursing, stopping, breathing hard, and maybe some tears. But by the time I got off of the trail and to the paved road that lead back to my car I was feeling a little tiny bit better and actually pedaled my bike about a half mile back to my car — which also sucked.
Now I’m a few days out and it still hurts, but it’s getting… better? Maybe? Wish me luck I don’t get hurt again any time soon.