I should elaborate: When I say I'm "a bit more emotional", I don't mean depression. Overall, in fact, I'm feeling quite "up" and optimistic. The doctors keep congratulating me for my positive outlook. (It doesn't seem that remarkable to me: Of course I am going to recover. I'm getting better every day: I can perceive it myself. I'm a very lucky man. But, really, what are my alternatives? Either I'll get better, or I'll stay where I was at my worst: I won't know who or where I am, and I'll have to have the jokes in "Garfield" explained to me every day. Who wants to live like that? I want my life back. I'm going to have it. I'm already 90% back: I can blog. Within a couple of months I'll be able to read effortlessly, and I'll be strong enough to walk around the block, and then I'll be wholly me again.)
It's more that whatever I happen to be feeling, I'm feeling closer to the surface than previously. For most of my life I've been a reserved person, and in a lot of ways I still am, but every now and then something will hit me that I just can't conceal. It's not unpleasant, just different. I'm not going berserk; I'm just more easily affected. Does that make sense?
Which is why, although I am not the kind of person who cries, I wept with appreciation for the kindnesses you've shown me over the past few weeks, and for the concern you've expressed for my overworked wife, who's been keeping you informed, whom I've put through so much and for whom there is no adequate thank you. (She'll see this, though: Maybe that's a start.)