Surf Nation

Things to do with broken ribs (go for a ride in a Buick Invicta)

Yes, bereft of the ability to do just about anything thanks my parlous ribs I did the obvious thing: went for a ride in Seamus Moran's Buick Invicta with Aerial Attack.

It was a fine machine, and no injuries were sustained.

 

And there's more here.

Mowing Machine

Once I was a Wrecking Machine. Now I am a Mowing Machine.

Yes, nine days after mutating into El Ribo I have managed to mow the lawn. This was highly satisfying, if a little painful.

Indeed, it might just be that gardening is the new surfing. There is a limit to how much one's body can take, and as I write, complete with a bit of neurological nonsense (my head hit the sea bed in last week's incident, which seems to have sent some of my wiring askew), I wonder whether my knackered frame has reached its sell-by date.

But according to Richard Brautigan, even lawns can be perilous. In fact, there was a curious incident with my copy of Revenge of the Lawn. I was living in Sydney when I read it, about 25 years ago, working as a labourer on a building site and saving money to go trekking for a month in the Tasmanian rainforest. I rented a room in a small house in Balmain, and once saw Peter Carey getting off the ferry. The boyfriend of my landlady was an ex-junkie, had faraway eyes and unusual practises. He conceived the erroneous notion that I was interested in his beloved, and one night, when I was out, took a pair of scissors (or perhaps a knife) to my Brautigan book and cut its pages in half. He left the cover intact, so that I didn't immediately realise he'd done this. To this day I can well imagine how pleased he felt with this act of malice.

'That'll show the bloody Pom the error of his literary ways!', is what he probably said.

Even books, then, can be dangerous, but as for lawns, read Brautigan. They can be lethal. I'm sticking with surfing.

What not to do with broken ribs: read about them in the middle of the night

Here I am, unable to get back to sleep having woken up an hour and a half ago with blasted rib pain. I decided to give up trying to sleep and sit and read/write for a bit, to see if the pain would go. The pain has indeed abated, but I fell to wondering just why I've had so many rib breaks over the years. Here they are:

1. Aged 17 - cracked rib, left side, having tried unsuccessfully to tackle a rampaging 6"3' centre on the rugby field. I was a 5"10' flanker, giving away about two stone to the centre. I resolved never to play rugby again after this and switched to football.

2. Aged 17 - cracked same rib falling down stairs. Don't ask.

3. Aged 18 - two broken ribs, left side, having been thrown or fallen into a swimming pool in the early hours. No one, least of all me, knows what actually happened. It was a friend's party. Those were the days. Painful days, for days on end.

4. Aged 45 - two broken ribs, left side, having sustained a very fine right-hand body shot. It wasn't enough to drop me but it was a hell of a punch.

5. Aged 46 - one broken rib (no. 9), left side and caused by surfing, but two other left side ribs most likely broken (apparently, fractured ribs aren't always easy to see on X-Rays).

What is the common denominator in all this? No, not that almost every break displays some level of recklessness but that each break is on my left side. Why is this?

Well, thanks to rib pain, a sleepless night and google, I discovered this:

A broken bone normally takes about four to six weeks to heal sufficiently to apply pressure to it, however, it still takes several months, and sometimes even years to heal completely. Since the ribcage is constantly moving, broken ribs are at high risk for constant re-injuries, and microscopic re-breaks, and with more pressure or even the trauma of coughing, with already weakened bone tissue, it's very easy to break again.

This yahoo answer, posted by the 'wife of a man who gets broken a lot', seems to suggest that there may be an inherent weakness on my left side, caused by repeated trauma. This would seem to bode well for the prospect of another break in due course, which is excellent news: all the nicknames I've been given, El Ribo is my favourite.

With thanks to The Surgens.