Backstreet's Back

Lately I've been plagued by this horrifying fear that come March 18th, when the cast is supposed to come off, the doctor will take one look at the x-ray and tell me that the cast is staying on for an indefinite amount of time. It didn't help when last night, at my host mom's birthday party, one of her friends decided to tell me about her daughter's disturbingly similar ankle injury. She had broken the same bone as me, and had one screw put in - like me. But after 6 weeks in a cast, she was told that her bone still wasn't set right and that she'd need another operation, another screw, and another cast...for another 6 weeks. If it comes down to that, I'm just going to tell them "fuck it" and walk around on a broken bone until I get back to the US of A. In all seriousness though, I've been thinking of little else for the past few days. I feel like even writing this down is jinxing it and giving it some sort of karmic guarantee, which seems to be a trend with me. Take, for example, the text message I sent Alexa upon arriving at the hospital - 

"Laura and i are at the hospital. I'm getting surgery tonight. Just kidding, but i am here to get an xray"

FML. But seriously, cross your fingers for me.

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Alright, I feel I should address the fact that I haven't updated in 3 weeks. The truth is I have no good excuse, or any at all for that matter. I've had more time than I know what to do with, most of which is spent curled up under my cocoon of blankets with my laptop illegally streaming Friends episodes. At the same time, it isn't true at all that nothing significant has gone down in the past few weeks. The truth is I think all the time spent in my bed has started to atrophy my brain in addition to my leg (which by the way, I find hilarious. I've got one hoss of a leg that's gotten used to supporting all my weight, and hence has muscles popping out all over the place - muscles I haven't seen since the heyday of crew practices. On the other hand, my other leg is now visibly smaller, weak, and flabby. It's like the ugly, stupid brother of the two. Sexy, I know). Anyway, I think I've let monotony take over with mornings marked by awkward showers with a trash bag taped over my leg, and evenings marked by those fucking injections. But NO MORE! I promise to start blogging again.

But for now I'm late meeting up with a friend to go see a movie. It'll be my first time watching one in France! We're going to see Slumdog Millionaire, with French subtitles. Whoo. Promise to report back.