the doctor’s office was as soulless and depressing as any i’ve ever been to, but this one also had the decor of a 70s-era Burger King and a roomful of people who were broken in every imaginable way. the operating system they used was DOS (i didn’t know you could buy software for DOS anymore) and one of the certificates hanging from his office read “In Recognition of your Contribution to the 1989 Christmas Performance.”

i winced when the radiologist shifted my bruised knee cap and he said, “oh, i know what that feels like, sister. i know all about pain.” he proceeded to tell me that he rated each day by how many drugs he had to take. “today is a morphine day,” he said.

when asked if i could do yoga again, the doctor said, “are you addicted or something?”

it’s been 6 days. i keep hoping for something tangible. please please give me a fracture, a contusion, something! but everyone keeps telling me that i am OKAY. the bruises are changing colors like poisoned lakes at sunset, the scabs are falling off and i am walking without the walker. but i fear i will lose this righteousness, that i will fall away and all the grieving that i’ve done for my body will vanish too.

i googled the vehicle that hit me. it looks like this:

Except the side should read “Illinois Department of Transportation Emergency Patrol Vehicle.”

and that’s not okay.