The good news is, the back is not broken.

The bad news is, we don’t know why it still hurts after almost three months.

Physical therapy resumes tomorrow, after three weeks off to be certain therapy was not aggravating a stress fracture. We are relieved, but in a really bittersweet, I-hate-physical-therapy-and-can’t-believe-we’re-back-here-again kind of way.

I am not entirely certain, yet, that she’s okay. Her grades are slipping. For the first time. Ever. She’s unhappy at school. Could be hormones. Could be more. I just don’t know.

When you take a kid who is used to nine hours of intense physical activity every week, on top of her normal screwing around, and tell her she has to BE STILL, I’ve got to think that takes a toll. I’ve got to think she has to miss it. I’ve got to think she looks at her trophies and her medals and her pictures and feels a loss, if nothing else. I sure do. But if she does, she doesn’t mention it.