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I was screaming with what little air I had left, but in my head there was this calm voice telling me, it’s okay. Between some minor surgery and a lot of (other) antibiotics, my body was recovering from what they finally determined was an internal infection, and I was, at last, allowed to go home. Now, coming up to Thanksgiving almost a full two years later, I am more thankful than ever for what I have. Who got me home, cooked me dinner, and helped bring me back to my full self again. (And here’s to my mother, for not strangling the hospital intern who gave me that antibiotic.) As you may have noticed, I’m not a huge drinker.