Wednesday, 14 January 2009

New Release: The Gift of the Broken Rib





Tonight my husband is on his knees worshipping The Broken Rib.

I called him on his way home and asked him to stop at the pharmacy to pick up some Tylenol PM so maybe I could be zonked enough to stay in one position more than one hour at a time, therefore minimizing the shrieks brought on by attempting to move in bed (which is absolutely confirmed as the most painful position for a rib injury-- that is, if you move in bed).  

Important aside:  I am not a pain-wimp.  As my husband brought to the attention of my co-workers today-- "this from the woman that was in labor for 5 days and gave birth in our house with no pain relief . . ."  He's still impressed by that.  

The unfortunate fact is that the rib spasms in bed-- due to the amount the core is needed to negotiate movement in bed-- hit me about as strong as those contractions that would wake me up, which I described as undramatically as possible, "like being awakened by a wrought iron skillet hitting you over the head."

So hubby stops at the pharmacy where our friend The Pharmacist works.  He brings home the recommended med and then suggests I call our friend to thank him for the help; which I promptly do.  

As soon as I hang up the phone my husband adds, "by the way, they got a new sail boat and have offered to give us theirs, remember the one we've sailed in?  It's ours if we want it."  

Wh wh wh what????  This is an awesome boat with a cabin and it really floats and even moves and we don't have one and what????  

"Why didn't you tell me as I was calling to thank him?  I thank him for his help but not the sailboat?"  

To which dear hubby sheepishly responds, "I wanted to make sure you were on board first . . ."

Then I had to make the follow up phone call-- oh yeah, and by the way, THANKS FOR THE BOAT!!!  (they've got a new awesome boat, this boat was given to them and they wanted to continue the charm)

So there you have it.   I don't have to spell the serendipity out do I???  

These are friends we see much more in the nicer climate when we are doing outdoor activities. If I hadn't broken this rib and my husband hadn't made his timely visit, the stars just may not have aligned in this most perfect fashion. We would have been none the wiser and someone else would have carried on the saga of the charmed boat (family members, by the way, had turned down his offer of the gift).

Right now I'm feeling like O. Henry has nothing on us and it is close enough to the holidays that I could maybe turn this into a classic tale . . .  The Gift of the Broken Rib.

Here's to the sweetest people EVER.  

And, sure, here's to the gift of the broken rib.  At least I can now giggle with the reminder the pain brings me.  

Lemons to lemonade scores a big one!



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