Proustian malady 447. Rotation #4

Of all the possible ends to this farine free week on a Friday I did not expect it. It’s true I was dreaming. It’s true it was perhaps a vicious dream either a high action Scooby Doo style leaping over icebergs, no that was the night before dream, no it was another dream, I woke and recalled only a stern voice yelling “These are basic notes!” and perhaps I was aiming a bucket at the head of the yeller and for whatever reason my arm was above my head. I put it down. And it’s true there was a sharp pain the next time I moved and it’s true that I complained ouch my back and noticed it was 7.15am. And moved again and winced some more.

Sometime later my partner offered to massage it, and it was true that it was too painful. As the morning wore on I could tell I had put out a rib, maybe. I could tell only maybe because I’ve popped out ribs at least 3 or 4 times in this life and I know exactly the pain you can feel when you breathe. The thing about popped ribs is I have no patience and need them relocated back in because they’re so painful.

I presented. I complimented the Australian physio who put the ribs back in on the other side the last time. It’s true that when he touched my back and said pull here, move there that it was agony.  I was surprised the ribs were so high up, I was surprised the ribs were hurting lower down and I was completely shocked when he calculated I had popped out a total of 4 Ribs.

That was what was true about that moment that I had managed to pop out four ribs while being asleep.  Scooby Doo indeed. It wasn’t so much the pain, it was that it was so unexpected and the number was so unexpected. 4. Quartered. Like a ransacked piano. No notes, rather than basic ones. In 48 hours the pain will soften and recede, and in 5 days I won’t feel a thing. Now it’s dull, but like the same old note again and again. But I do find the whole episode terribly funny.