Pickles & Dimes

Jason woke up screaming a few nights ago at 2:00 a.m. I thought he was having a nightmare, like the one he had a few years ago involving a skunk running backwards up his chest, aiming to spray, but no. Not a nightmare. Just a stabbing pain in his side that wouldn’t allow him to take a normal breath.

Perhaps you or I would have gone to the ER. Not Jason, for he is a manly man. See also: stubborn.

We waited it out until morning so I could take him to Urgent Care.

Did you know that people will line up at the clinic well before 8:00 a.m. to go to Urgent Care? I previously did not. I do now.

We got there at 7:45 and were tenth in line.

Turns out Jason’s rib cartilage somehow got torn away from his rib. Yes. Hope you weren’t eating while reading this. (Especially ribs.)

We weren’t sure how it could have happened, much to his doctor’s angry, disbelieving assertions otherwise.

Doctor: “Play football?”
Jason: “No.”

Doctor: “Cough too hard?”
Jason: “No.”

Doctor: “Fall off a 30-story building?”
Jason: “No.”

Doctor: “Get punched by an angry Hulk?”
Jason: “No.”

Doctor: “In a car accident?”
Jason: “Yes…nine months ago.”

Doctor, annoyed: “Well, you would’ve felt it when you injured yourself.”
Jason: “No.”

I have a theory as to how the injury may have occurred. Sometimes Jason and I do this ridiculous thing to each other where we’ll wrap our arms around the other person’s chest and squeeze as hard as we can before the other person cries uncle. You do that too, right? No? Never? It’s just us who are freaks?

It’s a moot point anyway, because Jason refused to let me ask the doctor about this because he thought the doctor would think we’re insane. I think he didn’t want me to ask because he didn’t want anyone to know how strong I am.