Vlad the Impaler - A Ruthless Chair

   I've been in pain for the past week.  Excruciating pain at times.
   It started when I got home on a Wednesday night. I like to draw, and I have a Bamboo tablet that I use when the creative urge hits me and I feel like digital doodling.  
   Unfortunately, I've misplaced my stylus and my mouse, ergonomically, isn't very fun after about 15 minutes or so. I was searching in the semi-darkness of the living room for my stylus and the perfect storm of gravity, tile floor, sorted laundry (at least my kids sorted the laundry, although they should have put it in baskets instead of piles on the floor), and a chair conspired to injure me.
   The chair in question is one that was formerly a wooden school desk/chair combo with the desk part removed.  The post where the desk top attaches sticks up and has two wood screws sticking out should I ever get around to making another desk top.

Vlad in timeout

   As fate would have it, I slipped on a pile of laundry and fell right on top of that post which, at the time, felt like it was forcing its way through my ribs into my lungs.  I crumpled to the floor, holding the right side of my chest and hoping that I hadn't really punctured anything.
   And in the midst of the pain, as my vision seemed to waver, and capable only of short breaths, a strange thought crept into my mind - I got worried that I might have ripped one of my favorite shirts.  Broken bones will heal, but a favorite shirt would never look the same.
   So there I was, writhing in pain, yet trying not to laugh at the silliness of the thought, and I knew that I'd survive.  It was several minutes before I could breath close to normally, and the pain felt like I'd been kicked by a horse (and I have been kicked by a horse before - but not in the chest).
   I'm not sure if I broke anything, but I sure as heck bruised some ribs.  Also, the force of the near-impalement knocked something out of whack in my back because my right side is still swollen there, too.  Unfortunately, the budget this month didn't have anything left for a trip to the ER, or even a doctor's visit the next day, so I've been coping with acetaminophen and naproxen sodium and trying to rest when I can.
   It's been just over a week and it still hurts to take deep breaths.  Coughing and sneezing are really bad for me because either act feels like I'm getting punched in the still-tender ribcage.  Laughing hurts as well, but not as much.  That's good, because I love to laugh.
   We've named the chair "Vlad the Impaler."
   And my shirt?  It survived with no rips.  Yay!