So I saw my surgeon again yesterday, and it looks like I was right-- iliopsoas bursitis. She writes me a referral to go get an ultrasound and a steroid injection to reduce the swelling, so that everything will go back to normal. "I've heard these shots work pretty quickly, if they're going to work," I say. "That's right," she says. "If it works you'll feel right as rain in a few days."

As in, this very last thing that's holding me back-- that's made PT so long and slow, and that makes it hard to walk and sometimes sleep- could very well be gone in just a few days.

On the bus ride home I look out the window and I plan what I'd do. I'd get up off the table, probably hug the radiologist. Then I'd get my stuff, and take the bus down to the ocean.

I'd walk from the 3rd street stop towards the beach, and as soon as I saw the water I would just break into a run. And I wouldn't stop until I was up to my waist in salt water.

And I'd let my eyes water, without feeling like too much of a wimp. And then everything could be put back together again. It wouldn't be easy, but it wouldn't be too hard.

And everything would be great.



Except that the radiology scheduling department won't pick up their phone...