That hole on my knee

Awesome news: my knee is healing! It still looks like Frankenstein, true, but at least I no longer walk like the tin man. I know, I watched too much TV ever since I was on couch arrest. I felt like I was rooting into my combined couches after 1.5 weeks. So this weekend I made a radical decision of separating my couches to start fresh.

I think the worst part is that I was wallowing in self pity and resentment. Resentment from being helpless, from unable to do things I took for granted such go running in a sunny day, lounge on the lake with my novel, go out and wear heels, biking or eating something other than crap Dutch microwave food.

The funny part is that slowly fades away, shifting from anger to acceptance. To accept that theres a black circle, a hole on my previously smooth knee. To realize and accept that life is not smooth and perfect. There are scars, there will be scars. And better learn that now than later I suppose.

I also proved something about me to myself and the doctors: I am the worst patient ever. When I had my stitches, I had to squeeze the nurse's hand so hard to endure the pain. Not to mention the crying, cursing and funny enough, laughing. Even with broken fingers, the nurse managed to laugh at me. She said she wish she will never be present when I give birth. When she saw the blood draining from my face, she laughed and told me she was joking. She later messed my hair and said: "it's OK, you still have a couple of years before permanently damaging the life of your midwife."

What I also find amazing is how the words "at least its not" somehow makes me feel slightly better. At least its only temporary. At least its not infected. At least you still have your leg. At least youre still alive. I was still in my anger phase when my friend told this to me. And I told him that it's easy for him to say since he's not the one with the stitches.

Then another friend started talking to me about her problem, and for some reason I told her at least you dont have stitches on your knee.

So yes, there will be a scar on my knee. And from the look of it, a pretty deep one. I put up a RIP sign for my smooth legs, paid my last respect and brought pretty flowers. But at the moment I am just happy that I can walk. And a story to tell later.