Bed rest. He can scoff at that; nevertheless, it did not certainly help that he had a small football team's worth of children, a spouse, and a butler who made sure he followed said bed rest. So what if he had gotten too close to Killer Croc and it bit him in the rear just a smidge (he got his rear handed back to him due to a small distraction; his pride is more wounded)? He is Dark Knight, for goodness' sake; he has walked off worse. It also never helped the situation that his spouse religiously sleeps next to him no matter where he is, and will wake up to make sure he's there if he so much as breathes wrong. That little spine breaking in thirty pieces from Bane doesn’t help from his last big injury.

"I am fine." He scowls, picking at his bandages, hearing his children outside the master bedroom talking. When that doesn’t make you leave, and instead come closer and move his hand off the bandages, his scowl deepens. Yeah, he looks like the big, bad Bat, alright. If he hadn’t been such in a bad mood (and in pain), you would have made a sarcastic quip about where Damian got his genetics. "I don’t need a mother hen to lick my wounds."