The next person who looks at me with all-knowing sanctimony and says, dryly:
“Are you STILL limping?”
…will be offered two choices if applicable”:
Choice A: Be fired (if applicable)
Choice B: Get punched in the face.
Yes - it’s been a while and Yes - I have a way to go aaaand YES I do the exercises that my physiotherapist gives me. Religiously.
No – this isn’t the same injury as the others who ruptured their Achilles tendon (although I’m sure that was REALLY sore) and No – it didn’t happen at the same time: it happened 3 months after.
So yes, I’m aware that I’m still limping.
Are you aware that every day I wake up and wonder not IF there will be pain when I take my first step, but HOW much pain there will be?
I know that today will be another day that I can’t run with my kid. Or put that extra 10 minutes in at the office, knowing that I’ll make it up en route to the station by stretching out a little.
I know that the walk to that station will tire me enough that I’ll have to dig really deep to be a factor with my family. As it has been for the past 5 months.
But I also know that I’m on the mend.
But if I’m not mending as quickly as YOUR keen but medically uneducated mind tells you, then you can kiss my rosy bahookie. And go fuck yourself.
The end.
