A Half Year Later ...

... and I'm still ticking. Like that relentless rabbit, with whom I've shared more than I care to admit or remember, I just won't quit. Was that really me who had a transplant 6 months ago? Oh yes it was. Since I've forgotten some of the nasty bits from those days of whine and no roses, I decided to revisit earlier blog entries to jog my memory. I read them and wept.

Serves me right. Last week, I poked fun at Marty when he told me he'd read some of those posts recently, and they'd made him misty.

What I learned: I felt like Sigourney Weaver in Alien, and I was bored out of my mind. The fact that I actually recorded the nightmare is testament to the latter. What provoked tears is that my words, although accurate and descriptive and sometimes amusing, don't do justice to the experience. I guess you had to be there.

I'm happy to be here, not there.