Not broken; a sprain.
I thought that translated to no biggie, fast recuperation.
3 weeks later, however, it turns out it’s a nasty enough sprain to remain as painful and swollen as the day I oh-so-gracefully afflicted myself. [The degree of both, I must honestly add, rates at “pretty darn,” and even extra-strength Tylenol is of little help.]
Being chauffeured all over campus in golf carts isn’t bad, but I would trade it to be rid of the crutch-burns on my ribs, the soreness that comes from using muscles I normally don’t, and the pain that keeps me up most of the night.
I complain while laughing, however. While I think it’s pretty absurd that all this was the result of a moment’s lack of common sense, I’m the first to admit that I was practically asking for it.