Hi Greg

Greg,

I've probably seen more of you in the past two weeks than I do on a
regular basis, despite living fourteen steps away. But seeing you and
talking with you are two very different things. Those of us who've
been in the hospital have had the rare experience of talking to you,
not with you, and let me tell you: it's a lot less fun than talking
with you. We've all been waving our hands a lot in an effort to fill
in for you, but we're not as good at it. Well, Frankie's got it down
pretty good, but still, not so much.

I know you're on your way back. You're leaving some telltale signs,
like today's poop. Man, I never thought I would ever want to think
about your poop, let alone celebrate it. I'd even send Noodles in to
scoop it, because I know you've done the same for him, despite your
stated policy of never scooping the feces of other species. This is
one of the things I like about you: you'll flatly state your limits,
then quietly exceed them in the name of kindness to friends. I've seen
you do it time and again. I can't begin to count the number of times,
I've heard you say something like "Well, I think you're crazy, but
you're my friend, so of course I'm going to support you." I admire
that. Anyway, the point is, we appreciate the telltale signs that
you're coming home. Keep 'em up. The more the merrier.

Because I know how much you enjoy a good pun, I'll do my best to send
one a day, in hopes that it'll speed your recovery, because I know
after each one, you'll want to say, "but that's not funny!" So here
is today's: Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the
other, and says, "Dam!"

I missed being able to stop by and say hello today. I trust someone
will pass this on for me, to let you know that I'm thinking of you,
and happy about your progress, and eager to talk with you, rather than
to you, again. I trust you'll have something worthwhile to say.

Take care,
Tom