It is no laughing matter that my father-in-law fell from a tree and broke some ribs but there must be some way to work that cliche in.
On Monday, my f-i-l was collecting persimmon, when he fell. Now, he was hurt and seriously enough to need to stay in the hospital for a few days, but don’t think he fell from a tall pine or maple or the like. Horticulturists could better explain, but as I understand it, you clip the main growth bud of a young tree and major branches grow instead. This way you can have many more fruit-bearing branches and all close to the ground.
So, he fell and probably hit a branch on the way. He went home, and probably went to bed early. The next morning, he was in great pain so he decided to visit a hospital. There he was diagnosed with broken ribs, admitted to a room and had his lower chest wrapped. I suspect he was given pain-killers.
We visited in the evening and he was sitting up and smiling at his grandchildren. When my son pointed to something behind him, he twisted slowly, but without gasping or showing pain, and told my son the thing was a baduk board.
He will spend a few days at the hospital. We will visit him on Friday evening on our way to the farm. On Saturday and Sunday we will work on the persimmon crop and do whatever else we can. I will be very careful while climbing the trees but then I always am. My fear is not of falling though. I am over ninety kilos and the branches seem thin and long; my weight is strongly amplified by leverage when I step away from the trunk and I would hate to break a major limb – botanic or human.
One strange thing about the hospital was that behind the nurses desk was a white board with the patients names, their ages and maladies. Any visitor could read that my f-i-l had broken his 8th rib and had a hemo– (? this word was illegible). That’s not so bad or private, but others might have been.