It has been eight months today.  Might as well be eight years.  Sure feels like it.  Feels like eight years and it feels like eight days.  I don’t know anymore.  And no one seems to know what to say to me.  I don’t know what to say to me either.  The question most asked is, ‘How are you?’  I’ve heard it one thousand and one times.  I appreciate it every time, I do.  The problem is that I don’t know the answer.  I don’t know how I am anymore.  I don’t know who I am anymore.  This process of redefining your world and your place in it is an all consuming one.  There has not been a moment where I have been able to step outside of it and assess how I am.  Maybe I’m just scared of what I will find.  A very dear friend came up to me a couple of months ago and asked me, “How are you?”  I answered my usual, “Good.”  She nodded, smiled, and started to walk away.  But she stopped, came back, looked me right in the eye, and said, “Really?”  She called me out.  No, not really.  Of course not.  I laughed out loud and said an honest, “No. But isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”  That’s what everyone wants to hear.  And I completely understand. Caring enough to ask is very kind; but, I think most people are not ready to have the reality of my situation unloaded in their presence.  So they do me a favor and ask me how I am.  I know they care.  So I do them a favor and tell them I’m good.  I guess I’ve been doing the same to myself.  How am I?  I’m good.  You’re good Leslie.  You’re doing good.  It’s good.  Life is still good.  Look at what you still have that is good.  It’s all good… About as good as someone who has just had their legs bitten off by a shark, their tourniquet is unraveling, and they’re ‘enjoying’ lobster and a cocktail on the beach…. It’s all good.