Without turning melodramatic, let's call the back of the ambulance rock bottom: any worse in mind, body, or spirit, and I would've collapsed into a gurney on the hospital plane home.
But I made it.
I hit bottom, and I'm still kicking. Any worse and it would've been curtains, but I'm rebounding enough to realize how far down I was. I'm looking around and thinking, "Cool! I'm in Thailand!"
I'm enjoying the occasional bit of enjoyment.
Forgive the melodrama (twice in one post-bad form, and I apologize, but as close to justified in this situation as in any [I tell myself]), but it came close enough to being my dead body shipped home that I'm not going back in any other state until I'm damn well ready.
It might not take much, but for the love, don't ask me to leave now that I'm coming back to life.
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