Torn muscle issues

I have managed to tear one of my abdominal muscles through a complex and technical process involving a shitload of coughing.  Shitload being the layman's understanding for doing a lot of anything.  The doctor says I have torn a muscle but I believe that he is WRONG, and that I have actually busted every one of the bones in my right rib cage.  I think this is so because it hurts a SHITLOAD.  The genesis of my cough can be found here.

I reluctantly went to the doctor last week after the relentless pestering of my coworkers, which may or may not have had something to do with my relentless whinging and whining about my PAIN and that NO-ONE UNDERSTANDS MY BURDEN.  Well, someone on my floor at work brought in this coughing disease that must have been distributed by their germ-ridden offspring, so it stands to reason that everyone in hearing range should suffer for my burden by having their auditory sense somewhat inhibited by my coughing.

The other reason I went to the doc was because I am a responsible adult and I wanted to make sure that my life wasn't under direct threat from an exploding gall bladder or an imploding rib bone puncturing one of my lungs.  Because that would have really sucked.  So the doc told me that I need to rest, rest and rest so it can get better, better and betterer, or some advice of equal ridiculosity.

I'm sorry - rest?  Is that the thing where people sit still for hours and hours while keeping their hands busy with some type of remote control or needlepoint embroidery?  Yeah, I don't do that.  I am more than happy to do dencorub and nurofen and heat packs, but I'm not very good at sitting still, even if my attention is distracted by a DVD box set of Bones.


Mr Pelican being awesome

I am very much not one of those people who sit on the couch on a rainy Saturday afternoon and watches twelve DVDs in a row.  That is my idea of suffering and punishment.  By the end of the day my cabin fever would rival Norman Bates'.  I can sit around for about an hour and a half on the weekend while reading the newspapers but then I must go and do stuff that involves movement or I am prone to self destruct.

So my first weekend with my new condition was spent resting at Broulee on the South Coast; following doctors orders.  My resting involved climbing over rocks, going out on a boat without a warm jacket in sea-salt scented gale force winds, and walking on loose sand along a hurricane-infested beach.  You know; resting. 

I don't feel so good right now.