I’ve been lucky.  So very lucky I hardly know what to do with myself.

Most people won’t skate on the edge of death and come back to write blog posts about it.

Some will circle the drain, but not everyone has a family that will fight to keep you afloat.

Friends are great, having every person you ever met, plus some you didn’t plan on, is beyond every dream you ever had.  That’s just online.

I mean. Friends. FRIENDS. friends.

Do you take the time to feel lucky for the people you know?

I have been so stinkin’ lucky with this stroke.

The friends that are practically sisters.

The sister that’s now a best friend.

Buddies that have graduated to lifelines.

Casual acquaintances that became valued bonds.

Strangers DID become friends.

I may never have the chance to feel this way again.

Grateful.  Thankful.  Blessed.  Absolute Faith.

Befriended.

Some days I have to find to find a way to grow hope.

It can be the fingers moving the smallest bit in this video…it can also be remembering how to make the video.

Take your pick.

my hand action from Anissa Mayhew on Vimeo.

I have noticed the change, and some others have too, I suppose.

Probably everyone who used to follow my old stuff has noticed.  The new people have probably seen some difference.

And we’re not just talking about the way I dress.

For those that haven’t totally gotten it yet, we are talking about my writing.

What used to be the Great American Novel, is now usually very short and to the point.

Partly because I only have one hand to type with, and partly because everything goes slower these days.

It’s frustrating.  I won’t pretend.

But compared to where I WAS…I’m doing great!

I was in a bed all the time, connected to machines that beep, with children, a husband. family and friends hoping and praying.

So I do write slower then I used to.

And I get thing done at a much slower pace.

But I have learned to be happy that I’m able to get them done all.

I woke up just a few months ago. It was unclear and confusing, I didn’t realize my body didn’t work yet.

But i loved the people coming to visit me.  Some, i don’t remember.  Some, I was too tired to see. Some, made me laugh. Some, memories faint but still memorable.

They were the voices that I woke up to. The faces that brought me smiles. They were the hands that wrapped around me.  The lips that made me hear “safe”.

Precious gifts were given in the forms of their arms.

They worked so hard to bring me back to life.

They never gave up on me, never stopped trying.

They are the reasons I’m in my living room today.