Thanks, apo. The pain wasn't like sciatica, though, it was more like the familiar pain of athletic performance. That is, soreness and weariness in my right leg from carrying the entirety of my body weight, and fear of not hopping high enough and slipping. My injured leg did not give me any pain, since I wasn't using it. The absence of pain is what made me want to set it down and use it, as I normally would, which the physical therapists kept warning me against doing.
Of course the person with whom I sympathize most is JayZeeJay's injured husband. I can't imagine going home after my accident and trying to bear with that pain and a broken bone for 24 hours. What I remember is that, at first, there wasn't a lot of pain, just a liquid feeling in my knee, and when I moved my leg, the lower half didn't do what it was supposed to -- in fact, it didn't seem to be attached to my body. When the pain did come, it was awful. So awful that I was not brave at all later, when getting x-rays and MRIs done. I was so relieved for the morphine shot, and even gladder when they gave me a shot for anesthesia in the operating room. I don't even remember the mask going over my face: I was out already. But JayZeeJay's husband was conscious through all that. Jeesh.
144.9, after breakfast. I woke up hungry during the night, so I was surprised at this slight gain. No idea why, and am not going to think about it too much.
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