Before I was so rudely interrupted�
Daniel here. I�m home. Brief pause for a virtual happy dance. A real one is beyond me, but I don�t care. I�m home!

I still tire easily, and I am experiencing significant visual impairment -- although noticeably less so every day. (I am able to type this for myself, for example, although my typing speed is slowed to a crawl, and I am much more dependent on Mr Gates� spellchecker than previously.) This is going to be a longer convalescence than July�s, but my doctors assure me I should recover fully in a matter of two to four months.

The phrase I hear from every nurse and doctor is that I am doing very well for someone in my condition. I find this phrase hilarious, but I can�t seem to explain to the doctors why. Perhaps it bears too much resemblance to the World�s Worst Encouraging Thing To Say, �Well, it could be worse.�

And, indeed, it could be. I am able to walk, unassisted, without any version of wheels, canes or crutches, and without any noticeable limp. Although my stamina is not what it was, I am experiencing no particular weakness or disability on either side. I am alert and aware, able to follow and participate in conversations, and speak with clarity. Every now and then I experience a brief bout of aphasia; I lose a word (usually a noun). On the other hand, I know plenty of people who do the same thing, some to greater extent than I, some with much less reason to do so. Mentally, I am pretty much myself.

Well, there does seem to be one relatively trivial exception. I�m a bit more emotional than I was.

Yes, for someone recovering from two heart attacks and two strokes, I�m doing pretty darned well. I�m a very lucky man, and I thank God for that.

Thank you all for your continued well wishes. That seems such an inadequate thing to say for something that meant so very much to me.