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Here's the thing. Back in the summer, before ED lost her ability to swallow, I felt huge sorrow and a quite debilitating amount of grief for the life she could have had, had she not been struck down by fucking MS, for the loss of the fiercely intelligent, lateral thinking, independent, gobby daughter I once had. Now, after almost losing her, I am finally able to genuinely rejoice in the life she does have, rather than just tell myself that would be a more helpful approach. SIL reports that today she was 'chatty'. Chatty!!! I haven't heard her speak a word of her own volition for over a month! (She was able to answer simple factual questions like, "Which day comes after Monday?" and somehow the doing of that enabled her brain to send the signal to swallow first, so that was a way of getting some liquid in her, but not enough and it didn't last.) I know, she is chatting shit, but she's fucking happy and she's alive to tell us she is, and that makes me happy too. Proper happy - I can let go of what might have been if all went well, having witnessed what else might have been. So that's all good, innit?

I actually managed a proper big food shop today, first time in weeks, and followed that by cooking a roast chicken dinner. This means I'm on the up - I did almost have to lie down behind the bins and have a little snooze halfway round the supermarket, but I plodded heroically onwards. And I'm seeing the health advisor again tomorrow for planning session 2 on stopping smoking again. And I've done two nights without a sleeping pill. Go me.

Today has been Remembrance Day, which always makes me livid, given the way ex-service personnel are treated.

I am grateful for: the lovely comments expressing joy at ED's return, thank you dear friends; the massive booms I was convinced was an explosion turning out to be merely the loudest thunder I've ever heard; having a roof over my head; and money (more than enough money - that's one of my new mantras "I have more than enough money"); and my health

Sleep well xxx

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