My body takes its own time to heal. I am patient and kind to myself every day.

Healing is not a line, it is a scribble that trends upward. Day nine is often worse than day eight, and nothing has gone wrong.

Anyone who has sprained an ankle knows this. Three good days, then a morning where you put weight on it badly and the whole thing feels like week one again. The temptation is to conclude you have undone it.

You have not. The timetable was never yours to set. Patience here is less a virtue than an accurate reading of how repair actually works — in fits, sideways, on its own schedule.