Well, how to start a blog about an event that happened almost exactly three months ago, that was life-changing but somehow not?

Maybe with this: on February 17, 2016, I thought I was going to die. I remember being in a helicopter, fighting extreme photophobia (sensitivity to light) to open my eyes, wanting to see the sky as much as possible before I died. I re-played the last words I’d said to my husband before I was incommunicado (“I think I’m dying”) and regretted I hadn’t found something more kind, more profound, more sweet to say.

I didn’t die. In fact, other than some residual, persistent, and bothersome headaches and what seems to be chronic fatigue, I’m almost back to my old self. It’s strange, really, and this will perhaps help me (and you, if you’re reading along) find some peace with an unexpected and awful time in my life.



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