Interlude - Physician, Heal Thyself

It's 4am. Most of my posts are written in the present tense; a method of drawing in the reader. This time it's for real. I am lying here in bed, my laptop under the covers, waiting for dawn. I am unable to sleep, despite being exhausted. I am not even afforded the pleasure of being able to toss and turn, as every movement, every breath, is painful. I check my pulse - tachy? Probably not. I cast my mind back to yesterday afternoon, a warm, sunny end to a lovely day. I had been riding in the local park with Mrs RRD, our daughter LittleMuffin, and SonThree. I was thinking how much fitter I was, having recently started going to the gym twice a week. Suddenly, I felt my front wheel lock up, and I went flying over the handlebars, the right one jamming into my chest!

I lay on the ground, flopping around, like a fish that has been hooked, netted and flung onto the river bank. I can't breathe! Searing pain in my ribs, low down on my right. The family rushing over, I proceeded to do my own Primary Survey:

Airway - definitely ok, despite the fact that I can't talk
Breathing - bloody painful!! There's no surgical emphysema (air in the tissues of the chest wall, signifying a collapsed lung.) Wait a moment, how long does it take for that to develop? Oh well, come back to B in a minute.
Circulation - no dizziness, pulse up a bit, but that's to be expected, no blood on the floor. pelvis intact, but right hip hurts a lot. I can move it, so clearly it's not broken.
Disability - I can't check my own pupils for reaction to light, but my Glasgow Coma Scale is 15 out of 15, and I am moving all 4 limbs. Thank goodness I was wearing my helmet.
Exposure - No way am I exposing myself in my local park! That's not the sort of publicity I or BASICS needs. Still, I am wearing shorts and a T-shirt (oh Gawd! It's my Trauma Junkie shirt - how mortifying!), so most of me is available for inspection. LittleMuffin offers, but it is Mrs RRD who checks over all my various grazes, and pronounces me battered but intact.

Mrs RRD looked on anxiously as I slowly dusted myself off and try to get up. Ow, my ribs!! Together, the three of them hauled me up (not quite enough gym, after all), and we made our slow way home.

As the evening wore on, so the pain increased. A veritable cocktail of drugs before bedtime, and yet still I lie here, listening to the soft sussuration of Mrs RRD's breathing, and now to the sound of birdsong outside my window.