I'm in pain. Out of the blue, my back under my right shoulder blade started hurting. It came on slowly and not as though from an injury. All of my experience as a Hypochondriac Doctor (i.e. diagnosing all of my injuries both real and imagined) could not logically come to terms with this. The only injury that I could dial back to was the incident In Which I Was Dragged By The Dog. Could I actually have an injury start to hurt several days after it occurred?
This was yesterday. Last night I slept sandwiched between my two daughters. Only not a comfortable sandwich with fancy bread served on a fine china plate with pickle garnish and linen napkin, no I was that grilled-cheese with Wonder Bread made with the iron. In the midst of my smash-a-thon, rolling over was a painful challenge. I was wincing and groaning with every move and believing that getting old sucks.
When I showered this morning, I noticed that I had a bruise on my boob. My boob! When I pushed on my chest, I found that the pain traveled from the front of me through to where the back pain was. I was able to finally duplicate and isolate the pain. That links the injury to the incident. I did not withhold the pain medication and met my friend Tylenol for a trot to work.
(Should I be worried that while I'm typing this my cat is hunched down next to my dishwasher like she's about to catch a critter of some sort? Picture Tom staking out Jerry's hole.)
Now I'm wondering if I should see a doctor. It doesn't seem as bad as that, but those ribs and sternum are protecting some things that I need. My heart is in there! I'll decide tomorrow. It's time for bed. The cat and I are going downstairs now.