The previous section was incredibly slow; loading a single webpage took ten minutes, which is why the upload is a bit late.

Speaking of which, when I went to the hospital today—the queue for registration goes without saying—the very first thing the doctor calmly said jolted me wide awake.

“If this keeps getting worse, you might need an amputation, you know!”

Yes, you read that correctly. The doctor, a man in his forties, added the particle ‘ō’ to the end of the sentence, instantly making me picture him as someone who probably enjoys watching Kangxi Lai Le.

Honestly, hearing the word 'amputation' sent a genuine shock through me. Less than three seconds later, a man who had been hidden behind a cloth screen near the examination table sat up. His left foot was wrapped in thick bandages, and he anxiously asked:

“Doctor, it’s not that serious, is it?”

My immediate reaction was relief that I wouldn't face amputation; my second reaction was realizing how much of a drama queen I had been acting.

Following that, my hand received the fervent treatment usually reserved for an Orleans roast wing—ice packs, heat application, sauce slathering—and after all that, they told me I should rest for a week.

I could only grimly inform him that if I rested for a week, the whole family would starve...

So, I still have a temporary splint on my wrist right now, making it incredibly stiff as I type,

Which means my typing speed has been slightly affected,

Which is why the upload is over ten minutes late,

Which is why I'm begging for a couple of recommendation votes... ...

Fine, I admit the central theme of this chapter is really that last sentence. What do you want from me? I'll take the ice packs, the heat, and the sauce slathering—I’ve built up resistance now, I’m not scared. RO