Yesterday went from dread in the morning (anxiety about talking with Cathy, my mental health nurse) to an afternoon of feeling as though … well, as I imagine I might feel to hear that one’s Cancer was in remission. (Not that I’ve ever had Cancer.)
I’m not symptom-free in certain circumstances, but those times are few and my meltdowns are so mild, short and manageable; I’ve been ninety-nine percent fluent for the past six months and only had two mild meltdowns. As I say to myself: I can pass!
I went to Rollo yesterday afternoon and saw Gunther’s new teeth. He looks twenty years younger, and fabulous. He’s had no teeth since I met him. And when we came home, I kept a constant eye on Sheba to ensure she wasn’t licking her damaged paws.
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Today, I’m still weightless. I am so, so happy that therapy is over—and I get to celebrate my new status over lunch with Fran at her B&B. And after that, I get to watch the National’s The Madness of George III on YouTube. I can hardly wait.
I had one Hell of a time loading the images below into this post. Blogger is changing their interface and I cannot get it to accept the images I want to upload. To get these images up today, took forty-five minutes. Pooey.
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