So I had my surgery on Thursday, it was quite painful and took most of the day. I was spaced out, but managed to stay up and study for the exam- which I believe went really well. I spent the rest of the weekend sleeping, more or less. And on Monday I twisted my ankle. It didn’t happen on the ice, as a matter of fact it happened just outside the store five minutes before closing. The pain was immensely, and I took a taxi to the hospital worried that I might have broken my leg. The taxi driver was an idiot that wasn’t familiar with either Swedish, English or speed bumps – but was more than familiar with charging 100SEK for driving around the block, about 450meters. Anyway. The emergency room was packed with over 40 patients, and there was only one doctor on duty. He told me to come back in the morning, and maybe the line would have shrunk by then. He gave me a pair of crutches, but I can’t use them as I just had surgery on my hand. Poor Daniel had to carry me home; I don’t know what I would have done without him. I didn’t go back the next day, as I had no way of getting there. I am stuck in my apartment. To my horror I noticed this morning that the stitches have come undone on my hand and that I might have an infection. I am slightly depressed considering the situation, and concerned. I have had only 375 steps today (compared to my 12-13000 last week), all from jumping on one leg. I miss the gym. Tomorrow I have to get to the hospital some way or another. Until then I am enjoying my husband caring for me, cooking (notice the pizza), shopping and doing the laundry. I consider myself pretty lucky after all, for having him in my life.