When I was little, when I'd trip or otherwise exhibit normal klutziness, my sister would chime in with a "way to go, Grace." Like clockwork. After what I did yesterday, there' s a good chance my sister is going to fly across the country and write the sentiment across my forehead, in Sharpie.
Long story short: Walking home from work, tripped, ow,
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The x-ray was to make sure no big pieces of New York City sidewalk had embedded themselves in my arm. Because while I'll take Manhattan, I don't mean that literally. There was also a cool dye joint test, but I'll spare you the details.
No pain meds, but that's probably because every time they asked about pain, I disappointed them. "How would you rank the pain from 1 to 10?" "Oh, 2." "2?! Out of 10?" "Uh ... 2 and a half?"
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i suppose i have an overactive imagination, but i can always imagine pain being much, much worse, so the pain scale and i don't get along. how do you define ten? is it the most pain i personally have experienced? how much pain i can imagine? there are flaws in this system.
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Katie, do they teach you that stuff in skating? I know they made us fall down (in grass) to practice getting our sides down when we fell off of horses (and not limbs, heads, or spines). It's like trust exercises without the trusting.
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And, umm, I know exactly how you feel. Getting xrays of my ankle tomorrow.... :)
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Oh, and the Aussie EMT laughed in my face when I told him my birthday was April 1. Funnier when I'm not bleeding, homie.
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