Doc is sleeping until three today. That really means 4. He will have his head together around 5, and will then make something to eat, which takes us to 6. Then he will fiddle around with his bike and get the lights put on it, then jump in the shower and be ready to go at 7:15 to ride to the bus stop to catch his bus to work.
He says I can go see the doctor tomorrow.
I'm in a good place right now, the pain is around a 3, and I'm able to breathe normally. My nose isn't clogged, so no sniffing, that kills me. And I'm not smoking anything, so I don't cough, as that makes me cry.
Another thing I learned about fractured ribs is that they hurt more in the mornings and evenings. So I have a few hours of prime time left in the day, it's only 1:30pm.
I know the doctor is going to do that thing where he encases my ribs with his hands, squeezes a little and if I don't just scream, asks me if it hurts. That's one of the diagnostic tests. The last doctor I had found me cute and amusing. He asked if he could have the multi-page print out of my ER stay the day before, when they found nothing wrong with me but "conversion syndrome". It was a classy print out, with doctor's comments and various specialist's comments all equaling nothing. When not one of them was clever enough to check if my rib was fractured. It took the Urgent Care doctor 5 minutes with me to diagnose me. With no costly tests. And my Medicare covered it. Not so with the ER stay. The hospital was out of network. I think only one hospital in this city is in network, but it is a closely guarded secret.
So, I can't clean. Doc made that perfectly clear last night. I could go outside with the Kindle and start reading Amanda Palmer's book.
In preparation of the possibility of the outside chance of me having to go inpatient sometime in the next 90 days, I located some 60's sci-fi books that I can take along with me. I can read sci-fi anywhere.
I wonder if Doc is aware, somewhere deep in his slumber, that Boomer just sneezed in his face. Nope. I don't think he does. Score 1 for Boomer.
Freddy keeps jumping over my lap and the laptop. I wonder if she is trying to get my attention.
More efforts to promote my new piece on Soundcloud have brought nothing. I will persevere. That reminds me, I have to look something up in my "for dummies" book. And then change the horrid text on the lovely background and replace it with something more fitting.