Nine Weeks...

It's been nine weeks since I woke up and couldn't walk.  Nine weeks.  Today is most certainly better than two weeks ago, but I'm fighting swelling, again...and an on-going discomfort that seems to flip from knee to ankle to foot, and back to knee. So I'm grumpy, and a little frustrated, even a little angry, so I'd steer clear of me and my poor attitude if I were you.

Nine weeks.

I was thinking it was more like six or seven, but I was wrong.  No wonder I've gained ten pounds and feel like biting into everyone I see.  The pain and discomfort has been one exhausting thing, but the restraint in not being a jerk to people has been another, even more exhausting prospect to endure.  I don't get to go to work and be a grumpy idiot all day. I have to be hopeful and inspiring and sturdy...today I feel none of those, and yet I'm trying.  I want to run.  Well, first I just want to walk without issues, and it'd be awesome to not need ice every hour or two, and these crutches can kiss my @#$.  I'm being conditioned to be hesitant and cautious and to not get my hopes up, and that's some $#!%&y conditioning.

So...nine weeks.  I'm officially starting the clock over today.  I'm starting fresh.  Today is Day 1 of my "inconvenience," or so I'll try to tell myself.