And now with a serving of cheese.

You ever wish so very hard that something is all in your head, induced by the power of suggestion and an over-active imagination?

That’s me today, and tonight. I don’t like what my foot is doing, I don’t like how it feels when I take a step, and I don’t want to get out of my chair to go to class, and work, and the cafeteria, and goddamn meetings that have me walking all over campus.

I ditched the crutches last night when faced with the task of walking from the basement of our library across campus to my dorm room after a long day of class and work and the prospect of a night of homework and studying. My hands and arms and upper torso are nastily bruised because I don’t have the upper-body strength to correctly use the crutches long enough to get where I need to go, which usually includes either taking the longest fucking route possible to get from one academic building to the one across the quad or navigating multiple sets of stairs if I choose to take the direct outdoor route.

I want to go in for my X-Ray Friday and have them tell me it’s all in my head. Tell me it’s psychosomatic. That the nasty blood pooling that just started last night upon bandage removal (and is continuing today) is due to Javid telling me about his experience with his unknowingly-splintered tibia rather than a real complication of my situation. That it really should feel exactly the same as it did four days ago because nothing has changed.

I would rather have this be stress and lack-of-sleep-induced drama and my too-real phobia of broken bones than something more serious than a strain or stress fracture (not that stress fractures aren’t serious, by any means, but there are degrees), something that will land me with those fucking crutches for longer than the eleven hours I spent with them yesterday.

I am upset. I am tired. I am panicky. I am whiny. I hurt, and perhaps worse, I am uncomfortable in that twitchy, restless, unfocused, too-warm/too-cold/too-everything way that makes for incessant movement and a definite lack of relaxation.

But I am also busy, so I shall cut this short.

I also need to tinkle. Damned bodily functions… so inconvenient.

Suffice it to say that my grim determination to get through this with a big grin and a friendly wave of the crutch has flown (“fleed”?) fled for the moment.

Edit: Hannah wins. I consider myself officially smacked; I’m a dirty bum for not trying harder to get the damn crutches to work, but I’m trying one more time.