She kicked me out of her hospital room early tonight. She killed PT today and was tired and wanted to go to sleep, but mostly, she wanted me to try to sleep because she farking gets to come home tomorrow.

Do I feel like a kid on Christmas eve? Hell yes. By all rights that wreck should have killed her, but just shy of 3 weeks and she'll be home.

I was happy enough to hear that that I didn't even try to bitch slap the rehab guy when he was obviously ogling my wife's legs (and to be fair, he was telling me that 80% of why she's going home is because she was in extremely good physical condition pre-wreck, and has leg muscles like iron. But he was still checking her out.)

You definitely find out who your friends are when shit like this hits the fan. People I presumed would give a damn apparently didn't, and people who I thought would only be mildly interested were incredibly supportive.

And everyone out there who doesn't know us from the next person in the cyberspace line, I deeply appreciate your good wishes, prayers, and support. I believe in that kind of karmic energy, and damned if it didn't work.

There's a long road of rehab and healing ahead of her, but hell yeah, she's coming home!