Were you worth it?

Dear France,
I love you dearly and I am so thrilled that I got to visit you and your people this summer! Besides, I met some great people on the project that I worked on. But, I have some bad news for you, France.

You see, yesterday I had a bad day. The pits. I had to have an emergency root canal because of you. I had a cavity go from "not there" to severe in the exact amount of time that I spent with you. Rats! But, that's not all. Trekking around your beautiful cities left me with a stress fracture. Although your doctors are legit, they didn't properly stabilize my bone, so I received a torn ligament in the arch of my other foot when I tried to hobble to your beach and back like 5 times a day. Hobbling on that foot, now my "stress fracture foot" also has a torn arch ligament. Yay. France--in case you can't count--that's two arches torn. Now, let's do the math...How many feet do you have to work with? Yes, you got it.

Now, granted, some of this was my doing--the Fanta, the stubborness about not walking everywhere--but you gave me no choice. I wasn't going to hold it against you, France...until yesterday. As the numbness was wearing off from the root canal and the tooth was just beginning to throb like mad, I received the disturbing news that because my injuries in my feet were so old (aka...happened in the summer), the swelling was "abnormally" out of control. In other words...not healing. I wish I could say that getting a steroid shot in my heel (which, by the way, was more painful than the moon TATTOOED on the top of my foot) was nothing because I got to spend time with you, France. But, that was not my thought at all. In fact, as I limped out with the doctor's order of 6 weeks/3 times a week of electronic stimulation therapy (then, if it doesn't work, surgery) and a throbbing heel and tooth, my only thought was..."France, were you worth it?"

Can you prove me otherwise?

Your so-so friend (who's a little ticked),
Katie B.