The orthopedic surgeon's office called back. Apparently if I'm still feeling pain, they need to see me. Guess something didn't turn out so well. I'm waiting for two more months until I get home to go see a doctor for my knee. My poor mother is on the verge of tears. She didn't know I was hurting so bad, and, in her own words, "I hate to make you suffer for two more months." I don't mind it, I've done it for years, but it's really nice to know that she worries about me, and not just if I have enough food. She worries about me being in pain, or not being happy. I know that she does, and I hate to worry her, but it's nice sometimes to know someone worries about you like that.
I really, really love my mother.
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