Sweden...

What a day. What a long, crazy day.

I weaseled my way into the doctor a day early, with the sincere (and perhaps too optimistic) hope that KP and I could be on a plane back into the Sudan tomorrow.

No such luck.

Since my orthopedic surgeon guy was in the theatre* this afternoon, I got his assistant, who did nothing more than grimace at my shoulder a few times and tell me he’d take the stitches out next Wednesday.

Now, hold on just a cotton-pickin’ minute. The Professor (my doc) said this Wednesday. So we went around about that. The assistant was like, “OK, sure, you can go back now, but next Wednesday, go to the doctor there, get the stitches out and start physical therapy.”

Doctor? In Sudan? There are no doctors in Sudan.

“There are no doctors in Sweden?”

Sudan.

“Oh, that’s different.”

Yes, very.

Anyway, long story short—I did finally get shady permission to leave for So Sud tomorrow. I confess, I’m very good at rephrasing the same question again and again until I get the answer I want. (For shame.)

But then I told the physical therapist about all this, and the “Are you out of your mind?” look she gave me got my conscious going, which got me thinking a lot about baseball and how much I really do appreciate my right (throwing) arm, and how I already buggered up my legs good when I didn’t let myself recover right.

Then there was Chanda. Darn that man.

And Kim’s no help. “I think you should do what’s wisest.” Genius, Kim.

So now I’m left to decide what exactly is wisest.

Meh.

*Not a movie theatre, and operating theatre. Yes, of course Kim and I tried the “What’s showing?” line. Not funny. Not in Kenya, anyway. Please feel free to chuckle.