But we are. As much as we are acting like this is normal, nothing out of the ordinary, we know that it is not, so we totally are counting the days. Well, at least I am. I don't know if my mum is or not, but I definitely know that I am. Not in a I can't wait for this to be over so I will obsess over the days kind of way, but in a I have a need for a plan kind of way, and that requires having dates. Firm, unmovable dates written in ink, something that can not be erased, on a calendar or in a daily planner kind of way.
I have had my fixator for seventy-four days. I still have about eighty-two more days to go... not even half way there yet. Almost, but not quite. So much for the two months I originally hoped for when I first found out I would be getting an external fixator. I just have to keep thinking, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." Literally. Any bone is stronger than no bone at all. Even infected bone might be better than no bone. Not that I want infected bone. No, I want nice sturdy healthy new bone. Structurally sound bone. If eighty-four more days with a fixator is what it takes to help my body achieve that goal, then so be it. It will be worth it in the end.
But does going through all this really make me stronger? Who knows...
Not that it doesn't suck any less in the meantime either way.
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