Just over the freaking MOON.
Today, I met somebody--introduced by my uncle, no less--who had her palate removed, same as I did eight months ago. She's three weeks out of surgery.
She sounds just like I did three weeks out of surgery. I don't know that I ever subjected you guys to the absolute depths of suckiness that I was feeling then; I don't remember. The first paragraph of her email, though, was exactly what I was thinking then, so much so that I sucked in my breath and said "Oh, my GOD."
There is somebody like me out there. Better than that, there's somebody like I was all that time ago, when things were really, really bad. She can hear from one person, at least, that things get better. It'll remind me that that's true every time I say it.
She's gonna be *fine*. Fine as freshly-fluffed froghair. Just like I am.