My healing rate is accelerated in my body.

You never see a child grow. You see the pencil marks on the doorframe, months apart, and the evidence arrives all at once.

Recovery reports itself the same way — not daily, and never on the days you check. Someone who sees you fortnightly notices something you have missed across fourteen consecutive mornings of looking.

Rate is a hard thing to feel from inside. If you want a measure, take it from a distance: a month you can still picture, rather than yesterday. Days are too short a ruler for this.