My knee is still fricked up. There's a bone "subsiding" into the wrong place. It's all very confusung, I think because the geometry involved is actually complicated and not easy to show on a piece of paper.
Finally got all the darn sutures out and now I'm back to square one.
Long story short, they're gonna redo the surgery. I didn't ask too many questions because I wouldn't have understood the answers. But I guess this means back to cute nurses bringing me ice cream and graham crackers on demand for a few days.
Some of the damage is permanent. Certain muscles were just completely destroyed. So I'll be even more crippled than I was before.
I really hope I don't turn into Greg Abbott because of this.
Oddly enough, I actually kind of want to live though. So many people have helped me get through this. Maybe they had a good reason to. Maybe I can come out of this a better person. Maybe I can turn from a mean, bitter old cripple into a content, friendly old cripple. Maybe I'll invite some of you f-slurs to come here and go to Powell's with me and hear my stories about Portland before it was a shithole.
Powell's. The City of Books. One of the few places in Portland that is actually worth seeing.
Or maybe that's just the oxys talking!
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Try to hide them all you want you fricking whore, I'm still going to jerk off to those tootsies.
(get well soon king)
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