When our children lived at home and one of them started whining about something, everyone would gather round to have a "pity party", muttering "pity, pity, pity" until the offender started to smile.
I'm in need of a pity party.
I am thoroughly fed up with my helpless condition. Why did I ever decide to have the surgery? I was living quite OK - I don't need to wear six inch heels or dance the polka, and I can restrain from jay walking. Now I'm in a state of limbo "for ever." It's only the sixth day and already I can't stand it any more. How can I survive for six weeks? What would happen if I started walking on my leg? Could I do my PT exercises and be almost as good as new again? What stops me from doing this? What would it take to do it?
Hmm, do I feel better?
Not really.
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