A trip to the ER

Joe sat down last night, coughed, and something in his side went POP. He screamed and I started crying, he started crying, it all went to hell. I had to dress him. After an attempt to load him into the car to take him to the ER, he couldn't move and we had to call an ambulance. He had to get in a wheelchair at the ER to move. The x-rays were inconclusive for fracture, but the doctor said that didn't mean there wasn't one. Most likely he has a hairline fracture with pulled/torn muscles around it. All his pain was compounded by the fact the nurses forgot to give him a shot before his x-ray. Doctor walked in an hour, hour and a half after he said he'd get him something for the pain and said "Is that helping?" And we're like, "Is what helping?" "Your shot." "What shot?" "You didn't get a shot?"

Common ER hijinks.

And I would like to say it is criminal that generic vicodin costs less than half what a Z pack does. We're moving to Canada!

Joe says (to paraphrase Rick James): "Vicodin's a hell of a drug."