I dealt with most of the shock and grief, at the beginning, by being angry. As time passed, and I realised I wasn't going back to my old life any time soon, I also realised that I couldn't just be Angry All The Time , and that I missed the range of emotions I used to feel just as much as the things I used to do, and places I used to go.

It's been such a long road gradually moving from one set of emotions - well, one emotion, really - to another, and a lot of that anger came back to me with the pandemic. I was told that I was one of the acceptable casualties, who could be lost without society noticing. This was a different anger, though, a motivating one instead of a stagnating one. I met (online, mostly) so many people who knew exactly how I felt, and the anger became healing and restorative.

I still grieve my old job (even after 27 years), the loss of friends who got fed up of the effort required in order to spend time with me, and I *really* miss spontaneity! Going out of the flat now requires planning with near-military precision. But I can also see now the experiences and knowledge which would never have been part of my life if I had not collapsed on Thursday, September 13, 1997. I think the fact that I still remember the date everything changed may be a hint to myself that, even though I've come a long way, I still have a way to go...