This slice is part of
of the March Slice of Life Challenge on Two Writing Teachers! #sol25. I’m slicing every day in March. Thanks for stopping by!
“So this all started with a hug,” the doctor said just a couple of hours ago.
I laughed and said maybe I’d write a story called that: “It started with a hug.”
I had just told him that my 18 year old had lifted me in a bear hug on Sunday, and I had been in excruciating pain since an hour after that.
Before that, I had told the x-ray technicians the story.
Before that, I had told the LPN the story.
Before that, I had told the RN the story.
Before that, I had told my chiropractor the story. He popped my rib back in place, told me to ice it every hour, and to come back on Friday.
Way before that I had told my son, “If I have to go to the doctor because of this and tell them this embarrassing story I’m going to be very upset.”
The respiratory specialist getting my EKG ready actually loved the story. She said her brother still lifts up her mom all the time. We laughed about how teenagers are either ignoring you, or hugging you until you break.
The LPN said, “Well, you’re still young. When you are elderly, that will definitely crack a rib. It’s why we don’t like to perform CPR on the elderly. They say they want all of the things, but…”
Speaking of quotable quotes, the doctor said to me, very seriously, “I’m going to turn my brain off for this one, and just pretend it doesn’t make sense that you chest hurts after that hug. I mean, how strong is your son, do you think you have multiple fractures or something? It’s probably just some discomfort, but we’ll just do the full chest pain protocol.”
I couldn’t let it slide, so I smiled sweetly and said, “Oh good. That’s just what I like my doctors to say about their brains.”
Good news! My ribs aren’t cracked, I don’t have random pneumonia, and my heart was not attacking. It was an annoying 4 hours at the hospital, but at least I know that this is most likely just a muscle strain, taking its time to heal. Oh, and also the hospital has a stronger NSAID than advil, so I think that’s helping too.
Not so good news. . . I’m not sure the doctor will ever turn his brain back on.
On a Thought 
The next time my 27 year old goes to beat hug me, I’m telling him this story! Thank you for sharing and I’m glad you are feeling a bit better!
Oh, my, what a story! The ending line is hilarious.
This is definitely a boy mom post. My youngest son has hugged me to a near death experience. Thank baby Jesus he outgrew that fad! At least you found an excellent story through the pain, and a perfect title. Hope that pain goes away soon.
he loves you so much it hurts. Glad you got some answers. Hugs (the gentle kind).
I’m sure whoever is passing by my classroom was wondering why I’m alone but laughing out loud.
As the mama of two super-strong guys, I guess I’m grateful that I’ve not wound up in the hospital with hug-related injuries. And as someone who’s been in ERs more often during the last two years than I can count, I’d have to imagine your predicament gave the staff a reason to smile in an otherwise long shift.
Here’s to more hugs, bear and otherwise. =)