I was watching a James Bond movie the other night, Spectre, which was awesome.
But it doesn't really matter which one. You don't really watch a Bond movie for innovation. They're all great, and they generally follow a familiar script: Bond is shown to be dedicated to his truth, lots of beautiful women, crazy car chases, gun battles, gadgets, a supervillain, more beautiful women and elaborate torture device Bond escapes from.
Now, the best way to deal with a captured Bond would be, as Scott Evil says, to just shoot him, but bad guys tend to have their idiosyncrasies, so I'd like to propose the torture that sent me to the ER Wednesday and still hurts.
Put Bond in a power wheelchair. Drive him up to a keyboard tray. Raise tray to upper sternum height. Drive him into tray, not fast or anything, just consistently.
It doesn't sound like much, but it is probably the worst pain I have experienced. I had to take a few seconds to regain my composure and convince my arm that moving to the joystick and moving backward was better idea than passing out or crying.
The doc at the ER suggested I just bruised everything in there, and because I could breathe OK, he didn't think an X-ray was needed. "Ice and Advil was his advice.
It's OK if I don't move my chest, but as you might expect, I cough, yawn, use my arms to move, burp, etc. Then it hurts like #%#^.
And I write this to keep myself from thinking about the other aspect: the "Hey God, give me an effing break" one. I have a broken, or injured, rib. I hit my head this week before this debacle. And it'S not just me, but everyone it affects. Fortunately, for me anyway, a lot of people help me, so it affects a lot of people. But come on!
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2 comments:
So this made me think of Green Arrow. You know how he has those arrows that shoot ropes to tie up the villain? Why doesn't he shoot those first every time?? I'm sorry about your chest and all the rest of it. I love you. JTG
Reminds me of the day, before T, that I got my joystick caught in the desk at my office and my chair was spinning around uncontrollably and I hit my head. Of course I had just gotten back from the beach and thought it was cool to wear a white shirt to show off my tan. Yes, gash in the head and blood everywhere. It was quite the scene in the office and luckily somebody walked by and helped to stop my chair. Off to the ER at Fairfax, my super sister at the wheel, and 15 stitches. Besides getting quick attention because of the murderous look (white shirt full of blood and hair all sticky with blood) I decided that the moral of the story was never to go back to work on a Friday after a vacation! And that damn joystick. Sorry for your chest and I hope you are feeling better each day.
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