Let's see: It's been 93 days since I did an oopsie in the bathroom and busted my left ankle. It's healed but I feel like I'm now recovering from the operation that put things back together. I basically have a balance problem right now but a little less of one each day. My physical therapist has been enormously helpful and I expect to be up and about in plenty of time for Comic-Con.* That is said with an asterisk because there's always the chance that I'll do something stupid 'n' clumsy and break the other one.
All in all, it hasn't been as horrible as I would have thought if some fortune teller had told me how long I'd be hospitalized, confined to a rehab center and, since the end of February, largely confined to the second floor of my home. This is not to suggest that even one minute of it has been fun. I'm extremely satisfied with the medical care and grateful for all the friends who've helped, offered to help and/or come by to visit. But I wouldn't describe any of it as "fun."
In other words: Don't try this at home, kids!