I awoke yesterday with a twinge in my rib cage. I chuckled. How did I hurt that in my sleep? Then I stood up.
Holy hell. 24 hours later, I can still barely lift my right arm. It feels for all the world like a cracked rib, but how?
There once was a time when I knew damned well how I'd injured myself, and it was usually an awesome story involving basketball, cows, power tools or my older brother's sadism. Now, injuries involve breathing.