Ouch

In case you're wondering: A 39-year-old body, falling from a height of approximately two feet, does not bounce.

It's simple physics, really.

Let me explain . . . .

Yesterday morning, Shrike and I were each sitting in front of our own computers, as we are wont to do.

BoyCat hopped up in my lap for a snuggle, as he is wont to do.

Galoot came in and started harrassing BoyCat, as he is wont to do.

The thing is, BoyCat hates the dogs. Actually, we think he's probably scared of them.

(He's a bit of a p-word. So to speak.)

So, BoyCat is hissing and spitting and smacking Galoot on the nose, and Galoot is being a galoot, trying to get in my lap with the cat.

Shrike, trying to help out, suggested that "If you'll get Galoot, I'll get BoyCat."

This, as you can imagine, is a pretty standard procedure around these parts. One of us tackles Galoot and holds him back, while the other airlifts a cat to safety.

Now, she could've offered to hold onto Galoot while I took BoyCat to the other room, but she wanted to be nice and not make me get up.

It was a nice thought.

I grabbed Galoot's collar and held on for all I was worth, as she picked up BoyCat from my lap, and tried to get out of the room with him.

Galoot was trying to jump at him, trying to follow her, trying to basically do anything but sit quietly while I held onto him.

Now, remember, I'm sitting in my spinny computer chair, holding onto a dog that's going nuts.

The next thing I know, my chair has spun and then toppled over, and I'm lying on my back in the floor, still in the chair, in sitting position.

I was laughing so hard that it took a minute to realize that I'd whacked the shit out of my right forearm, just south of my elbow, on the base of Shrike's chair when I landed.

When it finally registered, it hurt badly enough that I did the whole "can I move it?" and "does anything feel like it's in the wrong place?" thing, but nothing seems to be broken, just bruised.

(The primary thought that kept going through my head, before I determined that it wasn't broken: "At least I have health insurance now!")

The worst part is that while I can feel a big ol' knot on my arm, it doesn't really show and although it hurts to touch it, it's really not discolored at all, so there's no point in posting photos here. So much for the cyber-sympathy.

I iced it pretty well for a while (probably what prevented the visible bruising, dammit) and it felt a lot better within an hour or so, not hurting unless I touch it, or do something stupid like leaning on that arm.

By evening, though, my leg, hip and back started aching and I realized that, despite having the chair there to cushion me, I'd hit the ground pretty hard and these old bones just didn't like it at all.

Shrike apologized profusely for trying to be nice, not making me get up to move the cat.

She also said, "Remind me not to be solicitous of you when you're pregnant. You could be killed!"