Nope… not a bad rib. It’s boring intercostal nastiness

Having just finished editing a programme about the new(ish) Superhospital in Glasgow, I realise how selfish this statement is because this is nothing like those folks are going through – but sweet Mary Berry I’m pissed off.

My hope yesterday that it was a dislocated rib turned out to be as truthful as my medical degree. Utter bollocks.

Now on day three of no exercise due to what I’ll now accept as intercostal damage – and I could literally cry. How ‘normal’ people go through life without exercise and the endorphins and the sense of pushing yourself etc is beyond me. I’m lost at sea right now…. I’m thinking of learning the piano, just so I’ve got an unattainable challenge to face into!

I wake up each morning hoping the pain will be gone – but it’s always there, like a twisted, evil enemy, mocking me and my hopes to recover. I know I need to be patient and let my body heal – but I’m equal parts impatient and pissed off (about over-doing it in the first place). </rant>

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