Just incase this ever happens again, I have a couple of off server blogs, Recovering Beauty and Comatised, a tumblr, and several scene journals, gamine, stxr and Christina. What can I say? I love to write, I love to get feed back on my writing, and I always want that option there to write online if I need it. But I have been online for way over a decade, so I’ve gotten around some.

I am back on my Cymbalta. I don’t remember why I stopped taking it, but I did. I don’t know if I’m happy with being on it or not. I am also on another diabetic drug that I don’t know if I want to take. Low blood sugars scare me so much and I don’t know how many of them I can take. I was already put under ‘watch’ today, having to have a ‘baby sitter’ to go out and buy Valentine’s Day gifts and a little somethings for me. I picked up some illuminating foundation for my face that leaves a small shine of glitter after I put it on. It goes with the power foundation I bought last year. I now have the whole set! WooHoo! I picked up some Venom DooWop lip stain, and a tiny little tin of peppermint mints for Chloe. She wanted her own make up and lip stains, since I was getting some. I had to explain to her that like with her pierced ears, she has to wait to get to use make up. But then I ended up giving her a small make over in the hallway outside the candy store. Our skin tones are practically identical, and she acted as though she was a princes after the make over. I wish I would have thought to take pictures.

The last stop of the day was Walmart, so I could get more DVDs to record more movies for my mother. I picked up some candy for the family. Those large Carousel Lollipops. I gave the boys and Chloe each a Wild Cherry pop. I think the DVDs are going okay. I’m sleepy from my meds, so I haven’t checked on them. I should be napping. I have a lot to get done tomorrow.

There I sat, tears streaming down my cheeks in the barely lit room, reading and highlighting pill books and doing bio-chemistry conversions. The master plan, so to say.  He didn’t talk about what I was doing, or why I was in the state that I was in. The sheer urgency of needing a light at the end of the tunnel told him the bad parts of the story, so he didn’t have to ask. He convinced me to call a family member in Las Vegas, or that was their last known whereabouts eleven days ago or so. So I called. A familiar but unidentified voice was on the other end of the line. I asked for my family member and there was a pause then, “Oh, he’s already left. I’m sorry.” Before the “sorry” was ever there, I had fresh tears pooling in my eyes. The sure thing, the one who would care for me no matter what, was already gone on to who knows where. I had thrown out his number before hand, so I couldn’t call him.

Feeling trapped I said my thanks and was about to hang up with the man on the other end of the line offered to take a message. “Do you have [his] number?” I asked. “Of course. But I don’t know who you are, so I can’t give it to you. It’s not my place,” he replied. I felt somewhat relieved. While I was giving the info to him via a speaker phone, my friend James was telling me things through FB to ask. Under any other circumstances, it would have been pretty funny. The guy on the phone asked me who was there, and I said I was chatting with someone through a video, and he replied, “You’re not crazy love, I can hear him too.” I had a feeling of who I had on the line, but I had to ask, and I was right. I felt a little embarrassed about calling his room, upset and thinking horrible thoughts, but I wanted out so badly. We finished up the call, he wished me well, I thanked him, and returned to my video chat. James hit the nail on the head when he asked me who it was by name. I saw his eyes light up. “Why don’t you go live with him! And bring me with you?!” Another thing that would have been funny under different circumstances.

I came to many conclusions last night and tonight. One of them is that I know who I can count on. I know who really loved me. The sad part is that I am not as smart as I thought I was. I thought I would never be taken in my another Roxanna again, and it’s very clear that I have been. She used to promise me hope of deliverance from my domestic violence situations, and then never fully able to go through with it. I didn’t need food. I didn’t need money. I needed companionship, someone to tell me that I was not alone. Someone to tell me that everything was going to be alright and that they were going to be there for me through it all. Looking back at those messages, I have to wonder if I was conversing with Roxanna again. Did she change her voice again? Where is she getting those devices? They all sound like different women, but they use the same sentence structures, same words, same phrases and life stories that she presented to me eleven and a half years ago. How does she keep fooling me off of the computer? Will she ever give up? What is so important that I have that she wants? If she just tells me, I will gladly give it to her for her to leave me alone forever. I am no longer even interested in keeping a record of her lies online anymore because I want her to leave me alone. I won’t even white knight for her future victims anymore. Discover the bitch like I did. Carry on the torch as I tried to. Just. Leave. Me. Alone!

In the mail this afternoon, I received a plane ticket to New Jersey. Do I want to go? Not especially. I can bring along the little ones, but only one carry on luggage each. The tickets are one way. There’s no turning back once I do go. I have faith in James, though. I know if I go to him, he will really be waiting for me at the Newark airport. He will really take me to his place. I won’t end up lost and wandering around alone somewhere down Texas way, with no way to get to even an enemy that I know down there. Not that they would help me, but it would be a familiar face. Maybe there’s a lesson to be learned from all of this, but I have to say that I should have learned it a long time ago when  I first caught Janna in her lies and then caught Roxanna in similar lies. But I fell for it. Maybe it’s my weakness that every human has a heart and compassion for another human being in help, though I know many who have turned a blind eye to me since childhood.

James put a light at the end of the tunnel that I was in. I didn’t know if it was a train or the sunshine, but I could see a light and that was all I wanted to see. It was all I needed. I’m happy that he gave me that hope and didn’t just push me away when I reached out for help. Even if he had not sent me any tickets anywhere, and just conversed with me last night, not shooed me away because his mind and heart were on other things, I would have been just as grateful. I’m saddened a little that I did not marry James when I had the chance, but that’s just one of a thousand regrets that I am going to have to live with.

I was in a relatively good mood today. The weather was nice once again, and I got to talk to Nick about what we were all going to be doing when I get to the Golden Coast. I still want to make that perfume I mentioned in yesterday’s post. I want to gather the wildflowers by the seaside in Sydney. Those flowers are in full bloom right now, and they will be so nice for the next four months. I want to get to the batch in the mid-summer, so they will put out better, stronger scents. I have a feeling I will be doing this the Friday before we leave. I hope Mandy likes them!

I’m still cleaning up after my harasser. The lies were against me eleven years ago, after a two-year tango with my harasser lying to me. Ten years. That’s too long to be thinking about things like this. I should have let it go. I was doing so great, even though said racist harasser commented nearly fifty times an hour, for twenty-four hours from the same IP and computer. Damn. I attracted a shut in! But today, all of that is gone, forgotten. I am saddened that I lost all of my first round of archives. I’m going to print out some more pictures that my mother wanted and hope that she doesn’t destroy this batch. I’m unusually tired tonight and it’s not even 8pm yet. What is wrong with me?! Speaking of my mother, this is probably the last batch I do for her for a long time. I found out that she stole more of my medicine for her meth-addict sister, so I get to go to work suffering.

I called Nick in tears over this, and he said that he would get me another bottle or two of the syrup, and we could be together on the plane going over. Just us and Chloe. I could sip or chug as much of that syrup that I could take. I smiled at that thought.

When we get home from this magically summer ride, we’re supposed to start prepping to go to Las Vegas! Another road trip! Good thing I am up for these things! I feel so lucky and so blessed, even if I am one kidney short and my heart is still weak, and I am exhausted. I will get to Las Vegas and I will see Mandy. Those are just two of the things that I want to do now that the only thing holding back is my own tight grip on the railing to the stairs. If I leave, my place will get robbed, my pets killed, and my house trashed; possibly burned down. Or maybe the fire won’t happen, and someone comes in and steals our computers, DVD-R, flat screen HD TVs, Wii, you know, all the stuff we worked very hard to have and got with in a few years of being motivated.

I keep thinking about seeing my friend there with me in Las Vegas. Maybe Dallas. I have a seminar there about blood cancers, what treatment worked best for me, what to expect, and what parents and care givers can expect when their child is on chemotherapy. I usually hate these seminars, but this time, I am looking for an excuse, any excuse to get out of the house for a little while, drive down town and come home. I’ll feel like I’ve had a “real job” as my harasser says. Because a job should never be something one enjoys to do for larger salaries than some boring cashier at a video store. But I guess they truly value their child-hating cashier who laughs hysterically when kids get hut in the store. Make snide observations and then check their name when the pull out their credit card, to see how much more money they have. Strange that for someone who was running the family into poverty but was going to be the World’s Next GOD, they never finished their degree. They just got a professional degree and they’re working in a Blockbuster video along side people who are physically 16, 17, 18, 19, not just mentally.

Yes, the person who made fun of me for working at Arby’s when I was 16, is in their 40′s today, and they still work as a drone in a Blockbuster store, where they have been since 2003. It’s great, right? I got a PhD while they were on the web making me look bad. I ignored them. They lost their jobs, lost their schooling, their spouses, and here I am, independently working on my own research, research that was unique to the University before I came here. I have been doing work like that since I was thirty. My learning days and test taking seminars are over. I teach at those now. I have three to go and teach at, get my complimentary meals, snacks, and I can leave without cleaning up. Perfect.

Not as perfect as being on the Golden Coast, but I’ll take it. *all smiles*

I didn’t venture out, but stayed inside with the windows and doors open, letting the warm breeze sweep though the house, cleaning out the dirty air, and replacing it with fresh air. The zing zing made working on anything a little harder. I feel like my foot is swollen, but I don’t believe it is.

With all the good things that happened to me today, I am still dreading next week and the start of dialysis. Dialysis is what caused the septic infection that eventually led to Jess’ death. His body couldn’t fight off the infection, so the doctor did not supply any antibiotics. They went ahead with the transplant, though. Smooth move, doc! There’s that tiny thought in t he back of my mind that I may or may not end up like Jess. In so much pain from sepsis that I swallow too much codine or too many Percs and I don’t wake up. Champ offered to bring me over some barbs. No thanks. I have enough to worry about, with how I could fight off the pain, should I get an infection.

All that being said, I am excited to get the first dialysis over with, because that means I can board the plane to the Golden Coast and nothing will stop me from being with my man and family. It’s summer in Australia right now. Where I am is about to get covered with several feet of snow. I still have plenty of time off, and nothing to occupy my mind. I have read Chloe every book that is appropriate for her, played dolls and video games with her, read just as many books to the boys, and played hide and seek with them, letting them win a few times, of course, that the three kids are tired of playing. Ashe asked me if I was going to start dinner soon because he wanted his supper and to go to bed! How many other people have the luxury of their four year old asking them for bedtime?! Didn’t think so.

I myself am going stir crazy. I finished my spiral notebook that I started back in October, I started a new journal, and even ordered a new one from Amazon. I’ve done all I can do with this site and the design. I have looked through more layouts, chosen one for March, and then I actually turn off my computer. I have watched every single show on cable in HD several times over. I am bored with everything. Bored and brilliant is a really bad combination. When I get those two together, I usually end up having a seizure and wake up sucking some stranger’s cock in the men’s room of the Cherry pub, stoned off my ass on a narcotic or two, in the early stages of alcohol poisoning, only to stagger out and be informed by Champ that I had a fourth man who wanted to take a turn. Whoa. I have called all the friends I have numbers for. I brushed the dog. The kitchen is spotless. I have an open bottle of Jack Daniels here, and I have had several drinks from it. Oh downward spiral, take me on another magic carpet ride…

Nick finally called me last night. He said they weren’t going to take me out of the filming. I was secretly relieved. I really wanted to work on that with him. The director is just going to shoot some other scenes that do not include me. I really want to go back to the gardens there in Sydney. I want to relive the beautiful flowery trails, collect wildflowers and have them pressed and made into perfume. That’s always been a favourite thing for me to do in Australia. I want to make a bottle for my friend Mandy, too. I hope she likes it!

While I was going through my meds this morning, I noticed that my fentanyl was gone. A whole five patches. I found out that my loving mother gave them to her drug addicted sister because she “needed them more than I did”. What? Really? All that is wrong with my aunt is she’s a chronic drug abuser. I really have a broken back and tumors that are causing me horrible pain. After the argument, I locked my med box in the trunk in the closet. Double locked, I might add. Let’s see anyone break into that! She started to tell me that maybe I should move out and earn my own money for my medicine myself. What kind of a selfish bitch was I to totally rely on my husband to work and support me and my ‘drug habit’ I had because of my cancer diagnosis. Wow. I’m not allowed to rely on my husband to buy my meds and work to support the household? I should move out of my own home? What the hell is wrong with her family!

That trip cannot get here fast enough. Have a great rest of the weekend, everyone! I have some pictures to upload after a while from when I tore apart my TimeCapsule and old iMac and harvested their drives. Now if I can only get some USB cords and connect them, I can get my data back. I’ll be so glad to get it, too. Never ever rely on media that you cannot connect to your main computer. I learned that the hard way.

I’m off to finish the bottle of Jack Daniels!

Actually, I’m not that much happier. I am not motivated to do anything other than lounge around my bed and watch the world go by through my green box window. I was supposed to be on the Golden Coast today. I was supposed to start filming. I was supposed to be experiencing the Sydney summer sunshine. Yet here I am in a cold, smoggy city. There’s plenty for me to do, but I have no ambition to do it. The Golden Coast was supposed to be my get away.

I did go with Nick to the airport, something I  have not done in a long time. We were late to the gates, and I secretly hoped he would miss his flight, but the piolet was late as well, and there we were. I stayed too long in the airport. I didn’t just watch the plane disappear into the smoggy, gray, cold sky. I stood there in anticipation that it would come back. That there was something wrong and the piolet would have to come back. But after three hours, it was clear the plane was not coming back. Walking back to the entrance, I saw my cab had already gone on. Might as well. I didn’t want to ride with myself, either.

I kept trying to cheer myself up. I kept telling myself that we could appeal the case and that all would be right in our world. Come a week from Saturday, I would be on the Golden Coast as well. The warm sea water, the bright sunshine, the city in bloom. Best of all, no pills. No one to tell me that they wanted to intentionally trigger me “just to see what happens.” No more worrying about who I was going to accidentally offend next. Chloe thought she was going today as well. She was pretty upset when we made her go to school this morning. I was just as upset as I walked in the University and began my work for the day. I felt all over that this isn’t right. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I haven’t let my phone out of my sight, for fear that Nick is going to call and I will miss his call. He promised to call me as soon as his plane landed. That was nearly twelve hours ago. I sometimes wonder if he forgot about me?

I played the two new songs over and over on my phone as I went through the motions of work. Carl made some smart-assed remarks to me and I barely batted an eye. Normally, I would engage in his torment and tell him what I thought of him. But this time, I let it go. I let many things go when I let go of Nick this morning.

It shouldn’t have to be this way.

I took her to the doctor today. Surprisingly, it was a very simple procedure to fix the implants. He just put something down her ears that looked like a long ink pen and she could suddenly hear again. He told me that the pulling on her ear lobes caused the implants to slip and she wasn’t to pull on her ear lobes any more for any reason while she has implants in. By some miracle, she didn’t have any infection in the piercings. When her hearing was restored, the doctor asked her why she was pulling on the ear lobes, and she said they itched inside. We were both stumped by that since the itching phase of the healing process should not have started with in the first hour of getting her ears pierced.

I guess one would want to know why I would approve of getting my six year old pierced ears. Well, her sister did her own self-piercings when she was about six, after begging, demanding, asking, threatening, and blackmailing, she pierced her ears herself. Much like I did when I was ten years old. PoRo and I had the same complications: infections, crooked piercings, uneven piercings, and to this day the only type of earring I can really wear has to be sterling silver because of all the infections that my ears have gone through. I am very fortunate that I didn’t lose my ears to gangrene or from my hair constantly being tangled in the cartilage piercings.

Since coming home from the doctor, she hasn’t pulled on her ear lobes, but she’s still shaking her head from time to time. I asked her why and she said she didn’t know. Back to the doctor, then.

… And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. ~ Luke 2:10-11

Merry Christmas.

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

★　　　★　　　　*　　 　　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★ 　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 ★

*　　　　　★　　　★　　 　★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ 　 ★　　　★　　★　　*　　　★ *　　　　　　　*　　 　* ★　　　　　　　　★　　　　　　　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★　　 *　　　　　★　　　★　　　　*　　 　 　★　　*　　★　　　*　　　★ ★

Keep watching the skies! Santa’s bound to be out there somewhere!

I had another bout with a blood clot. This time in my right leg. I had severe leg pain and went to the doctor just to be x-rayed, ultra-sound-ed, and told that I needed surgery to remove the clot. I was afraid I was going to miss Christmas. I was absent during my own SITS period, and I’m sure that people out there think I abandoned the site or lied when I said I was going to return comments. I got over sixty comments, and I am trying my best to return them today. I’m just so tired, even after being home a full day. The surgery required a little incision in my chest, which then required sutures to close up. Infection spread within a day of the sutures, causing my delay in getting home, and escalating my sadness for possibly missing Christmas with my family.

I sorely underestimated how much love my family has for me.

They waited for me to get home just to clear a space for the Christmas tree to be put up. For over a week, Dennis fed, clothed, washed and entertained the little ones, going so far as to cancel a meeting with his mates to be at home with the kids. One of the activities they did was make cards and drawings for me, nearly every day, which Dennis brought to me on his daily visits. I did cry when I saw Chloe’s drawing. It was of me, as an angel, with the words: “Don’t spend Christmas with Jesus this year!” at the bottom. I’m not sure why she is so certain that I will not be around to see her grow up. I am going to be around for a very long time, I am planning on that. Something I set my mind to.

Coming home yesterday was a relief. I am thankful all over again for what I have and how I have been blessed in this life. I was thankful for every little thing I had, from  my cell phone, to my bed, to being able to watch TV on my own set. I missed so much by being in the hospital, yet I gained so much in perspective on how much I am loved, appreciated, and thought of by my family. Though there wasn’t really anything that made me think otherwise. *all smiles*

As for my health, my doctor doesn’t know what is wrong with me, or how to “fix” me. He’s actually told me that I will never be cured, and I should make arrangements to reflect that. But why? I don’t feel worse, except for after dinner tonight, I felt as if I was going to throw up, though that may be because I’m not used to eating much lately.

In the end, I feel incredibly lucky to have the family and support that I do. Even in the comments and emails I get from this page, people are so wonderful to me most of the time. Big thank you if you were one of the people who have left me support, humor, and general happiness.

For now, I’m off to bed, to sleep off this nausea and just dream. G’Nite everyone!