In the end, I had two broken ribs and a whole lot of pain. The body producing pain is beneficial to the person. In my case, the pain was contraction at the slightest movement the body considered detrimental to the wound; in this case, my two freshly broken ribs—number eleven and twelve. The cause of the pain was a sudden contraction of muscles protecting the bone; these contractions froze my flesh in place, like having the air kicked out of you. You can only lay there motionless, awaiting the contraction to subside. This made sleeping exceptionally difficult because one moves in their sleep without volition. Throughout the night I awoke with the sudden searing pain as my body contracted into stillness—only my voice moved as I vocalized my pain in a scream in the middle of the dark of night.
However, the pain was mitigated by the memory of other pain, even worse pain, which somehow gave me solace. Over my many years I have been weathered with pain and having a memory of pain gives assurance to one’s ability to overcome and outlast the present pain. People always told me, I needed a thicker skin; I think my skin has stayed the same, though my physical sensitivities have certainly dulled with age, but pure pain has been a constant companion through my life, just a part of life. The human being is very adapt at readjusting to our environment; as the situation changes, so do our instincts. When the body needs to go to war, the body contracts and pain becomes, just a memory. The tenuous thread upon which life stands, the exactness of temperature and chemical balance is only part of the picture—as if, each human body is a universe.
Yet, it is hard to take one’s own pain seriously while being bombarded by all sorts of media described in moving picture the horrifying murder going on in the name of war. The pain of war and the scars of war are also recent memories making it easier to ignore war and suffering. The greatest wars of our time have been initiated by America. I have been in two wars and I do not say that with pride. I wish and pray that war be no more. War is stupid, fought by stupid people for stupid reasons. Might is not right. Moshiach, a man who is a gift from God coming from the heavens, will not arrive until murder is eradicated from our world.
After three days, the pain began to subside and now a week or so later I feel pretty good though it is still difficult to bend down, requiring me to be more methodical in my movements. The break will heal, the pain will fade but the experience is engraved into my soul. The righteous person when he dies, sees life as a tall mountain that climbed but the wicked see life as a anthill they could not step over. This world is but the antechamber to the great hall.