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You are going to punch something, but at the last second you rotate your hips and swing your fist directly into the wall instead of the indigo doctor in front of you. The thick, super-dense material reinforced, self-cleaning material actually buckles and cracks from the force of your impact. You feel an instant jolt of intense pain, the cracking of bones, and warm blood begin to seep from your fingers. You pull your hand back as the doctor slowly opens his eyes, assuming that this was the end of his life just seconds ago.
“Oh! My Lord... you hurt your hand.”
He takes your broken hand into his. It stings badly, and you grit your teeth. It does not distract you from the sensation in the rest of your body like you wanted.
“You might have broke some of your carpal bones. We'll print replacements right away; faster then regeneration. If any of the ligaments were hurt, we can heal them back with laser therapy. Should be noninvasive. I'll make sure you regain full use of this hand and will be completely painless by the end of this week, your Majesty.”
<span class="mu-b">”Why don't you grow me back some new protiens so mine will stop unravelling. How about that?”</span>
The doctor dutifully cleans and sanitizes your injured hand, but says nothing. It's clear that your condition is here to stay.
It doesn't really hurt. You just feel it every day, all the time. The strange sensation of an itch in your bones, the sense of “wrongness” that won't stop. Your lifestyle changes; it is no longer about living your life as you wish, on your terms; it is about submission to your chronic condition. There was a point, maybe, when it first came about that you thought you could avoid it, or heal it, or somehow overcome it. Maybe the self-regulating cycles of your body could have protected you, but no, you crossed that line. And as the days and weeks turn to months and years, it won't ever go back to how it was.
