That comment, from someone I've probably not heard from before, means so much to me.
It's true, too - I was on the train this morning and suddenly my mind flashed to lying on the street with K shouting for me to get up and me not knowing I was hurt because my hand and arm were underneath me. A breath of a second before it was unimaginable.
And I am doing very well, I know that.
And I don't often think of that second. But Minnesota is right. It takes a long time.
And I'd so much rather hear/read that than this, which has become somewhat standard:
Well, you're lucky. It could have been so much worse.
I'm hating that sentence right now.
Yes, we could have been killed. We know that. We live with that.
I suppose our injuries could have been much more extensive and we are fortunate, but, somehow, this isn't what I want people to tell me right now.
It's my left hand!
My commenters seem to get it. Everyone is quite encouraging.
I'm going to practice some driving this weekend as I have some driving to do and am not very good at it. It's not that I am fearful, it's that my left thumb doesn't wrap properly around the steering wheel and my palm is numb, so turning is a bit tricky - and my wrist is not flexible. One doesn't realize how many tendons and muscles are involved in driving.
And tomorrow is K's birthday so there's that...and we've turned on the furnace because it's cool at night, which I love.
We've bought him arrows (he chose them) and a smoker which he researched and we drove a couple of hours to fetch.
He's making himself ribs for his birthday dinner...so, Key Lime Pie or St. Honoré for dessert?
I might have to spend the day hugging him.