Duckie’s went back to see Dr. Bone. Why? Because Dr. Bone and Dr. Traumbone merged practices. Dr. Bone greats us like long, lost friends. He looks at Duckie’s leg, he has her walk, he takes X-rays. Everything is as good as… Well, everything is good.
Recovery from Osteomyelitis is no picnic. I find out there is no such thing as a cure. Duckie will always be considered infected, to some unknown degree. First, I find that out, then I find out other things. We’re in and out of stories, and around the bush and back. I’m happy I have a sense of humor and some training in problem solving: Asking 5 Whys, Root Cause Analysis, Pareto Charting, Process Mapping.
A quick aside: Duckie married a mildly mentally impaired man, Mr. Incredible. They live with us until the two of them get annoyed with Loved One and me. They stay with Mr. Incredible’s parents until the same happens over there. Duckie stays with me while she recuperates. Mr. Incredible visits. He needs predictability. Nothing is predictable here.