fell last night � again.

But no harm done, as usual.
Usually, I've been able to engineer myself back up somehow, but couldn't this time.

No big deal, thinks I, I'll just skooch over to my chair and hoist myself up.

Couldn't skooch. Couldn't reach my Life Alert button. Tried to call for help, but the 'phone wouldn't work. (I'd apparently kicked it unplugged in my flailing around.)

So I just lay there, unable to sit up, unable to move, for the longest, loneliest, most discouraging three hours of my life.

Weird sensations and the aftermath suggest that I may've had another stroke while I lay there.

Thought that I may be dying. I'd been praying, and added a fervent prayer that God would let me come Home right then and there, but He didn't grant that one. (I lay there hoping that I could at least make Steelhead happy! laugh )

When Ric found me, and lifted me into my chair, I was too weak to speak. I'm still far weaker than I was when I fell. But now the fear of falling is a heavy, haunting, crippling presence. Never was, before. Before last night's little dance with gravity, falling was just another usual passing nuisance � familiar, not fearsome.

It's looking more and more unlikely that I'll be able to put-in even a brief token appearance at the August rendezvous.

"Good enough" isn't.

Always take your responsibilities seriously but never yourself.