This is the 26th day of my fall. I have a new olecranon process of the ulna. Bright, shiny, new - and painful. That's the price of a new bone. You gotta feel the pain.
This little post is to thank all the people who cared and called and messaged and came over and sent me those huggies and kissies and worried about how I'd survive the pain of a broken bone.
Turns out I'd broken my olecranon-process-of-the-ulna in three different places. See the elbow there? It's outta shape, innit? Rugged in its shape. That's because it split into three.
Man. I thought I was a wuss when it came to surviving physiological distress. I'm kinda proud of myself. I even giggled a little (I do that sometimes when I'm in an emotional extreme) much to my mother's frightened disdain. No wonder Dr. Jokhio looked at me with those dagger eyes when I lightly asked him on that first day of the fall, "So do I really need a cast?"
It's freakin broken in three. I'd be mad at me too.
So it's another three weeks of liquefication of the bone and calcification (the brand new x-rays show a decidedly different shade of white where the old elbow was) and whatnot, which means painful exercises and probably a dash of physiotherapy.
Is it weird that I'm strangely blithe?
This means the worst is over. Right?