That did not go well...

I had an appointment with my orthopedic surgeon this morning.
It did not go well.
Honestly, I don't even know what to say. I feel suspended, disbelief, stunned.
I don't know what I should feel, how I should react to what I heard today.
But I wish I could say that I am angry, because I should be.
Everything that I have been through over the last ten years in relation to my leg has been a struggle.
Nothing has ever gone right the first time around.
Broken leg, delayed union, malunion, surgery, pus, pain, more surgery, redness, puss, pain, ignored by surgeon, pus, pain, swelling, redness, repeat over and over again until finally major fatigue, abscess, dead bone, infectious disease specialist, diagnosed with chronic osteomyelitis, antibiotics, PICC line, new better surgeon, surgery, hope, infection free, pus, pain, drainage, swelling, redness, inflammation, dead bone, relapse diagnosed, more puss, pain, fatigue, dead bone, more antibiotics, another PICC line, hopes of a bone graft, surgery, more antibiotics, no bone graft, surgery, external fixator, growing bone, going well, and then... this.
I want to be angry. I have every right to be angry - my body betrays me again and again and again.
But I am not angry. I am just tired. Tired of battling my body at every turn. Tired of being positive. Tired of having to care, wanting to care.
I am the medical world's poster child of Murphy's law: what can go wrong, will go wrong.
And I am just done.

I don't want to feel like my body is betraying me, but that is what it feels like it is doing. I am doing everything I possibly can in order to get better, but it is just not happening. Not today, not yet. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week.

I would cry, but there is nothing for it. It won't make the situation better, that's for sure.

And of course, no matter how crumby the situation is, it will look better in the morning. Dawn's rosy finger's as the ancient Greeks would say. They make everything somewhat okay again. I will get through this like all the other things and hope that next time I am not in the one percent. Next time, it is someone else's turn to be the poster child of Murphy's Law.