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. . . I sat around on my butt at home. Ice packs were my friends. All told, the pain hasn’t been too bad, unless I have the thing in a weird position, it’s just the Sisyphean journey to try to just get sheeping comfortable.

The PT my insurance sent out was a nice guy, but we didn’t really do PT per se–he just watched me do my exercises and evaluated how I was walking. He seemed to have a curious aversion to touching me, in fact. *shrug* My real PTs tell me it’s like that, and that they make good money, too. *shrug again*

The nurses who had to come out and give me a finger stick to check my coumadin level were a mixed bag. My favorite one was thrilled by the ferrets, and even took a selfie with one of them! It got so that whenever a new stranger came to the house, they started mugging in their cage to be let out, heh.

Finally I had to venture out into the Big Scary World at the foot of the 37 steps, but that is going well enough. I’m still easily exhausted by it, but I’m building up stamina. This means writing too, but ironically, I’ve just done enough of it that I’m tired now, and will talk about it later!

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