the good, the bad, the ugly
The good? Yesterday, after x-rays and the usual routine of poking and prodding and hopping about, my surgeon has pronounced me to be fabulous, better than he ever expected, and declared his own handiwork to be rather magnificent. I couldn't agree more. All my hardware is just where it should be. No, this won't last forever, and I'll never be able to go stickless, regain the use of muscles that don't connect to anything, climb stairs, row, go for a run, or do a whole raft of other things, but so what? I can walk and I'm out of pain. We won. Two years ago, I was in hospital missing one hip, peeing bright orange while being treated for a particularly resistant bone infection, and it was entirely possible that it was game over on walking. Now? I'm nearly halfway back from swimming to France. My surgeon is magnificent, and I am too. So there.

(forgive me, I know this hip stuff is old news, but I need to remind myself of the obvious sometimes, on those days when I'm a bit creaky, or grumpy that I have limits, or annoyed when the numbness and wobble is back. Remind myself that this is so far above and beyond where I could have been, and celebrate that rather than whinge about being rubbish.)

There is no bad.

The ugly? Nicotine withdrawal symptoms. Man. Just past the 72 hour mark now, and hoping this is where the physical stuff starts trailing off and I lose the sense of wanting to crawl out of my own skin. Soon, please.