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Ok, really. I'm not sure how much my online friends are aware of this fact, but I happen to be an extremely clumsy person. If a day goes by where I don't bump, knock, or otherwise hit a bit of my anatomy on something is a rare day. I often find bruises and have no idea where exactly I got it. And by this point, my knees are pretty much entirely scar tissue.

But still, after all that, my nerves have gotten pretty used to it. When I do knock into things it rarely hurts for long. So when I knocked into the recycling bin a couple days ago, I didn't think much of it. I didn't even hit it that -hard-, for goodness sake. But by that night my ribs were hurting, and by the next day the pain was sharp and it hurt to move, and it had spread to most of my back and my left arm was all pins-and-needles with numbness at the fingers.

According to the doctor, I must have hit in just exactly the wrong way, and ended up bruising my ribs and tearing some cartilage. Which sounds worse than it really is, btw. In that all she told me to do was take Advil and ice it and it should be better in a few days. And the other pain was just my body reacting and such. So yeah, I hurt, but its at least a bit better today. I'm even taking my niece to the pool, if only because it might help -my- muscle relax a bit, as swimming usually does.

But really, of all the abuse I've put myself through, it's almost funny that this is one of the things that gets me.

Almost funny. But not quite. Ow.

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April 2013
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