This is rapidly losing the hilarity factor.

I am hurt. How? I don’t know. What did I do? Nothing. However, I have an unbelievable sharp pain in my left side, right under my ample bosom. It hurts when I breathe; it hurts when I don’t breathe, and moving? Yeah, that makes me swear a lot and wince and cry out and generally move around much like I figure an old person does when all their bones and organs start failing.

Since I am excellent at self-diagnosis, it’s been narrowed down to two things: a broken rib, or spontaneous pneumothorax. Naturally, I am hoping for the latter because it sounds totally wikked.

Even though I spent most of the month of April lying on the ground after falling down, I don’t think I did anything that would break a rib – and certainly not anything that would cause a delayed reaction rib breaking. It frankly feels like someone is stabbing me with a large dirty knife and twisting it around to see what would happen and I do not like it one bit.

So, back to the spontaneous pneumothorax. The internet tells me I likely have a wikked case of pleurisy, which to my surprise is not a pokeman. Pleurisy can be caused by a number of things, each more excellent than the last:

• a viral infection
• pneumonia
• air leaking into my pleural hole
• broken ribs
• tuberculosis aka teh consumption
• arthritis
• lupus
• sickle cell crisis: the latest offering from Tom Clancy
• pulmonary embolism
• pancreatitis (most commonly caused by excessive use of alcohol – I DID have a quarter bottle of raspberry cider last night)

Every single one of these says in large letters GET THEE UNTO THE HOSPITAL. So, that’s what I’m doing. I was unbelievably sheepish when I called my coworker – the poor girl, I’ve left her to fend for herself so many times because of my utterly fantastic injuries that I’m sure she hates me – and now I’m going to pile myself onto Sally and scoot to the doctor’s office where I will get to wait for a very long time before they tell me I have seven tumors and three pulmonary embolisms, which apparently can cause death. If I don’t check in later today, I’m dead from my mystery rib pain. Lisa can have all my smut, and Shan gets all my Converse.

Fucking ow :( :( :( :( :(