Shugarhi My femur hurts... 010517
Risen Fracturing my femur is something I'm used to. I did it first before I was even born. I literally couldn't tell you how many times since - it depends on what you count as a fracture, but it's somewhere between 10 and 15.

The last time I broke it (rather than having it broken for me under anesthetic) was the start of the worst few years of my life. I'm not even out the other side of it yet. I've been outside the house maybe half a dozen times this year for non-medical reasons. Over the past six months, it's mainly been my back which has given way. Finally had too much of the constant changes in height and posture and walking, it started crumbling in on itself.

The last few weeks, I lost my intellect to the process. My GP wanted to try a new drug to stop me needing so much morphine. The drug took away my brainpower, and it took a consultant to say I could come off it. The last few days have been the detox off a drug so powerful that going cold turkey can kill you. Needless to say I have been feeling like crap.

I am very lonely. A new house, so much to do, so many people in and out. Not friends, obviously. I haven't seen any for a long time. I think the long-term ones just gave up, so now I speak mainly to people I only know online. Which means not so much of the heart-to-hearts or sharing my feelings.

Which brings me to today. I got 3 hours' sleep last night. I woke up feeling awful. Zombied my way through some movies, had a nap, made notes for an important pain consultant appointment, thought about the future and my recovery.

Then I hear screaming. I rush to the garage next to my room. My mother is on the ground, in agony. For the next hour, while we wait for an ambulance, I watch the person I love most in the world go through the worst thing which ever happened to me.

I am such a mess right now. Sat alone at home waiting for news.

I am terrified. I am worried. I am a nervous wreck.

But I was strong when she needed me to be. So I suppose that counts for something.
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