Another late night

We must stop meeting like this! I'm prone to think more when I'm prone. I guess. So now I'm awake and relieved that the meltdown I just had lasted only long enough to upset Amy for a short time. Actually, that is not true. Whereas I can be totally destroyed for an hour and find it cathartic thirty minutes later, she remains strong and holds it all in, similar to eating a hand grenade and turning her back so I can't see her face, her spine protecting me from the explosion. Boy, is she going to hate me for that one. She's dropping me supportive e-mails as I post (instead of getting much needed sleep).

Support can be measured in layers, none valued more or less than another. Awkward term, but accurate. We appreciate any and all support. We have the silent support group, most likely our largest club, those who are praying for me or thinking of me and channelling their empathy without a word. We have the more charismatic bunch, those who call or write or share they're devotion to prayer through various  groups. We have the cure clubs, those who want to help me with their heartfelt advice ranging far past the reaches of practicality and propriety (I really like this group- willing to throw it all out there without a second thought). We have the visitor's gaggle, mostly closer friends, brave enough or curious enough to drop by, always a pleasure and never a burden. We have the pushy ones, those who can be challenging to us as they insist we do this, insist we do that, whether it be accepting Jesus or receiving daily colon cleansing, who may be looking for results for self aggrandizement. For their own fulfillment, for whatever. Bring it on. I don't care the motives. Whatever the flavor of my support, I love it.

What I believe is immaterial to my friends and family. What they believe holds the real power. My job is not to adhere to their reasoning but to accept their devotion to my health in whatever form it is transported.