Mostly good.

.

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Chicken, milk, and coffee.  Out of water.  I'll have to get more of that, when I can.

The pain from the old wound is either extremely numbed or simply relieved one way or another.  Not even the echoes which had been present.  However, the roadrash areas, the left ankle (I think from overuse as the other mends), the right knee as a joint and because of the torn skin, and the left shoulder... probably from using that to try to rise, and roll while sleeping, are all... giving me a heck of an ache.

But it's minor pains, adding up to from six to eight.  That... I can handle.  Maybe not as much yesterday.  Maybe not so much tomorrow.  But after what I went through earlier, this is... if not absolutely easy, a lot easier.  It's comparative, and vastly favorably.  On a scale of one to ten earlier, I had three or four tens going on in various spots.  Some in unison, some with dissonance, none of it seemed to cancel or distract one from the other.  As perfect of agony as I can recall.

So... better.  Enough better that is almost easy.  Well, and I think the body's painkiller factory is still in operation.  It can handle a ten or two, just not four.  So a few six to eights is just fine.  Mostly.

Two chicken dinners, actually.  Two fatted coffees.  And two quarts of milk.  Too much, but being out of water, and being a thirsty devil, I do what I must.  Plus, I think the chicken and cream and milk are... going to good use.  Can you heal too fast?  For comfort, definitely.  For other reasons?  I don't know.  But if, as I suggested, my eyes aren't fooling me, then I have healed a third, or so, by volume, of a fairly big wound.  Maybe half?  And, that in, mostly, about a week.  

Can't wait to show the doctor, and nurses, who have been following.  They were... more than impressed with the roadrash recovery.  As in... bright faces, if... strange looks passed between them, when... they thought I wasn't looking.  Oh... I'm used to that.  From as a child, and elseplaces and elsetimes... friends, family, medical, even .mil.  I... learned to notice, try to sort out the why, quietly.  But, otherwise, leave it alone.  People... don't like freaks, or thinking about things that absolutely don't make sense, or are counter to what they "know".  Still... I do... enjoy.

No church.  I can't.  I'm doing better.  But I won't risk bumping, falling, even farting... without some caution.  My g.i. is being odd, perhaps as the bruise material is breaking down?  Upset, but more.  As if I ate something I shouldn't have.  It's not the chicken, it's been sort of like that since it's healing began in earnest earlier on, before I had started adding food back in.  Just... I think my body eating bad blood, pretty much literally.

I am hoping a couple of days of rest, maybe a shower, and the remnants of food plus fatted coffee and milk, will have me ready to get in to see the doctor when it is time.  Torn between trying to get in earlier, and just canceling... so I can rest.  But won't do either.  I'll... get there as scheduled.

A bit more tinkering, then hopefully on back to bed.  I'll just sleep as I may, for now.  A shower, again, tomorrow.  No more debriding, of the old wound.  But I will patch it over freshly.  But I will patch the knee again.  And, probably, when I go to bed again.  Still hitting the hand wounds, but more every other or every third day.  As much to put ointment on it, to moisten the mostly dry healing last layers of skin.

Later, or goodnight.  I just can't be sure.