Recently I've had difficulty living with torn-to-pieces-hood. I wept readily. And this in spite of some blessing of sun, some lightness of clear blue sky, and momentary gentle warmth seeping through my skin to delight my bones. Waking through the night in a restless tangle of cotton shroud, I was tempted towards tantrums, until reminding myself that these are the good old days and I am not just surviving. I have a life! I've not been well and this, on top of the demands of disability,...

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