It was 10.37. The dishwasher was finally doing its thing, and it was time for me to crawl into bed with my tablet and catch a bit of Netflix and rest…
But tonight even the crawling bit was difficult. A suspected cracked rib means that almost every movement is sore.
You can guess what the recommended treatment is for a cracked rib: lots of rest. The one thing not available to family carers like me.
My own gut feeling was to Google compression bandages, as I’m trying very hard to keep the area rigid, but they’re no longer recommended as using them can lead to pneumonia.
‘Ouch’ may have become my favourite word, but the pain itself is not that bad, it’s the frustration that this injury resulted from housing and equipment that is less than ideal, and the consequences of this injury mean that I will have to give up most of the activities that sustain my physical and mental health. At least for a while. Normally a cracked rib takes about 6 weeks to heal, but how much longer will it take if I cannot rest? It’s a scary and depressing thought.
I may have to go to the GP if the pain continues to get worse, but do I ask for extra help with my disabled daughter? Will I get it? Do I deserve it when there are so many other people in greater need?
In the meantime my only plan is to look for lots of reasons to be cheerful, so watch this space…