He's back...

Okay, you weasels, it's really me and I'm going to write it like it is, so hang on.
This has been one of the least-fun experiences of my life, and I wouldn't wish it on more than one or two of my worst enemies.
Christine, my dearly beloved, is to be continually acknowledged as the sole reason I've made it this far, and this well.
It is to be remembered that, at the beginning of all this, I was basically dead.
Not really dead, as Billy Crystal said in The Princess Bride, but mostly dead.
Through the kindnesses of the docs and nurses at the hospital, however, I made it out mostly alive.
Now the nurses at Day Rehab have ahold of me, and aren't letting go.
They abuse me on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, and have made of me whatever I have thus far.
Hey, I kid... They are the most hardworking, underpaid, sweet bunch of women, who have given their all to make me better.
And I'm mostly better, which is better than I could have been, surely.
My mind is working, mostly, and my body is pretty much working (I can't talk about certain delicate issues in this blog, per Christine; email me if you need details), and I'm getting back to what passes for normal.
Christine, as noted earlier, has taken incredible care of me throughout, and whatever I am today I owe to her. Along with some serious diamonds, as I understand it...
I grow tired, alas, so I'm going to cut this first post short. More anon.
If you want to see more of Seymour, you need to leave some comments, however. I can blather on for awhile about what's going on in my life, but I'll do better if I hear from some of you.
Later.