Even the brave have pain

Someone said to me the other day, "Your breath smells like bananas." I said, "Really? Does it? Huh?" Then I remembered. "Oh yeah, that's because I swallowed the herion I am transporting in banana flavored condoms."

Anyone who knows me knows the above joke is totally not true--I never use condoms. Actually, it couldn't be true because I can't even swallow advil. A couple of years ago I had broken my ankle when saving an infant from the tree top. I grabbed the kid right at the moment the bough broke and down came baby, cradle and me on my ankle. But, my heroism is not the important part of the story, anyone would have made the same decision in that situation.

My ankle had many accessories while it convalesced--First, a frankstein foot looking splint; then, a black cast. I chose black because black is slimming plus I had broken my ankle right before labor day and I'm not goash; and, then of course the gustapo looking walking boot. I was a little in conflict wearing the boot and being Jewish. I kept feeling the impulse to write my social security number on my arm. Anyway, I went to the othepedic surgeons office to have a new cast put on my leg. The nurse supposedly needed to put my foot at a right angle to my leg before putting the cast on. I wept. I asked if they had any advil or anything. She said, "Yes." She was just about to get some when I qualified my request. "I need children's advil. I can't swallow pills."
"We dont' have liquid advil."
"But don't children break bones?" I asked through the tears.
"Yes." she said and continued, "They swallow pills."
Miraculously, I couldn't feel the pain in my ankle anymore because my ego was so bruised I felt nothing else.