On bar stools that is. They’re high. They’re all right if you’re drinking water, or orange juice, or coke. But not beer, wine or anything alcoholic (or if you’re just naturally accident prone). Because, then there’s every chance you could fall off one.
Like I did.
Picture it: Mardi Gras weekend in Sydney. The day started well. Me and Jason went for a massive Aussie breakfast in Bondi, then got the train to Circular Quay (the place where the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House are). A wander round The Rocks and a walk over the bridge later, it started to rain. By this time it was about 2pm I reckon, so we decided to go for a drink. The pub did jugs of beer. So, that’s what we drank. And we just kept going throughout the afternoon. Ahh, good old afternoon drinking sessions.
The unplanned ones are the best.
We had a ball. Chatting to loads of different people. I kept getting bought drinks by the random people I kept chatting to at the bar. People were trying to convince us that their mate was famous (he wasn’t). Lesbian hen parties wanted their picture taken with us. It was fun. Until, I fell. No idea how, or when, or what happened. Whether I just got off balance, got knocked by someone or what. Jason didn’t see it (just saw me in a crumpled heap on the floor). I don’t think I was that drunk, but yeah, I’d had a few. But, regardless of what happened, I messed up my elbow pretty bad and banged my knee.
But it wasn’t until the next day that everything started to hurt. My elbow looked the worse but actually isn’t that painful now. What is painful, is my ribs. I have no idea what I’ve done to them. Bruised, cracked or broken, I’m not sure. All I know is that my chest on my left side is agony, they’ve hurt since Sunday and they don’t seem to be getting much better. Any walking feels like I have an elephant on my chest poking my lung with a stick. I can’t walk up stairs very well because I get out of breath and then struggle to breathe as it hurts so much. I can’t straighten my back up because it all hurts. If I turn over in bed or get up from sitting down I get sharp shooting pains. I feel about 90 years old.
It’s not good. Mum, you probably shouldn’t show this blog post to Nan, she’ll only worry. In fact, maybe you shouldn’t read this one either. But I’m OK, really. I’m sure. Don’t worry.
But, I think I’m going to go and get checked out tomorrow. Just to be on the safe side, and also because I’m flying to New Zealand on Monday. Need to make sure I’m OK for that. I know there’s not a lot that can be done for ribs anyway, but would be good to just see what they say.
Yes, I know it was stupid. And yes, I know it’s my own fault. I’m not looking for sympathy, and I’m not excusing it, I’m just telling it how it is. I was irresponsible. I should know better, especially at my age. Yes, I know I shouldn’t have drunk so much. Maybe that caused it, maybe it didn’t, I don’t know. These things happen, I’m sure most people that go out drinking can relate to it (although maybe without the injury part).
It’s not big, and its not clever. But it happened. And I don’t do it that often. Sometimes it’s nice to have a blow out. Just not to be accompanied by accidents.
I’ll learn for next time. Maybe. And in the meantime, please don’t do what I did people. Because, I also missed Mardi Gras. Gutted.
Drink sensibly and responsibly. It’s the best way.
Edited 6th March to add : It turns out that after a day in A&E, a chest x-ray and having to wear a rather fetching hospital gown, I have broken a rib. No wonder it bloody hurt!!