![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freddiefragglesI've not been sleeping well lately. I couldn't figure out why until about 5 minutes ago as I was standing at the toaster waiting for my bagel to pop up.
I have an appointment with Mr Calder on Wednesday. The first one in nine months. The one where I hope he's going to say that he doesn't need to see me anymore. Because I'm fixed. Because my leg is fine.
But it's not fine. It still hurts. It hurts in places it didn't used to hurt. My calf aches almost all the time. Muscles I can't use anymore, that should control the fine motor movements of my foot, scream as I walk. As I'm sitting here now, on my sofa, there's a general tiredness that only happens to my lower right leg.
And it bothers me. Try as I might to not let it, it bothers me. And all because I know there is nothing more that Mr Calder can do about it. I know the next step. And I'm still rather attached to my toes, and my moles and freckles. Now that I've nearly accepted my scars, I don't really want to lose them too.
I wish I knew why. Why? It's such a loaded question for me. Why did I get a tumour? Why my right leg? Why did the bone graft not work? Why didn't they come up with a better solution than putting medical cement in a hole the size of a golf ball?
Why me?
I wish I knew.
I have an appointment with Mr Calder on Wednesday. The first one in nine months. The one where I hope he's going to say that he doesn't need to see me anymore. Because I'm fixed. Because my leg is fine.
But it's not fine. It still hurts. It hurts in places it didn't used to hurt. My calf aches almost all the time. Muscles I can't use anymore, that should control the fine motor movements of my foot, scream as I walk. As I'm sitting here now, on my sofa, there's a general tiredness that only happens to my lower right leg.
And it bothers me. Try as I might to not let it, it bothers me. And all because I know there is nothing more that Mr Calder can do about it. I know the next step. And I'm still rather attached to my toes, and my moles and freckles. Now that I've nearly accepted my scars, I don't really want to lose them too.
I wish I knew why. Why? It's such a loaded question for me. Why did I get a tumour? Why my right leg? Why did the bone graft not work? Why didn't they come up with a better solution than putting medical cement in a hole the size of a golf ball?
Why me?
I wish I knew.
