For this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, Linda G. Hill has asked us to pay tribute to the word “rib.” I am pleased to be able to make a contribution to this effort.
I don’t know if you know this, but I broke a few ribs in a downhill snow skiing accident a while back. Sure, I took a lot of ribbing from my friends who witnessed my clumsiness. But I failed to see the humor in it. You see, one attribute of a rib injury is that it’s both very painful and extremely annoying. And my doctor wouldn’t prescribe anything for pain stronger than Tylenol. Sheesh.
If you’ve ever broken a rib or two, then you know that for about a month to six weeks after breaking a rib, you don’t want to sneeze or laugh because doing so causes you to expand your ribcage, and with a cracked rib, that results in excruciating pain. For the same reason, you also don’t want anyone to hug you. What about hot and heavy sex? Fuhgeddaboudit.
And for heaven’s sake, if you’re taking a dump and you need that last big push to get it all out, be prepared to suffer. I know that I put up with a lot of trials and tribulations by having cracked a few ribs. Breaking a rib has a terribly long, sad, and lonely recovery period.
Okay, I think I’ve described the hassle of broken ribs enough for now. But, strangely, I’ve developed a sudden urge to go out to Chili’s for a rack of baby back ribs.