My ladyfriend, Christine, has taken care of me, or at least watched over the care of me, since I went down with my angioma last fall. She has done so, in spite of my attempts to either die or come out braindead, with a cheerful attitude and a smile.
I cannot tell you, or her, how much I owe her for all her hard work.
Let's just say that the biggest diamond I can ever afford is barely sufficient compensation for what she's gone through.
I would spend the money on anything else she wanted, but that seems to be her lust object in this world, so I'm happy to acquire one when I can afford it.
Know that I will take the best care of her that I can, no matter what it takes.
She's a very special woman, and I'm extremely lucky to have her in my life.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Figuring it out
I've finally reacquired Blogger and enough awareness to get access to the accounts, so I can now post to this blog again. More later.
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.
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.
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