I leave early on my way to hospital. I visit St Michael's International Anglican church, just off the Champs Elysee, and close to the president's Elysée palace. Although I have been praying daily for "L", it is so good to be in God's house and to thank Him there. No one welcomes or speaks to me, but I don't mind. I am quite aware I am that rather mad looking old man in the back row with tears coursing down his face. Rather off-putting, really.
They do not know, but these are tears of joy and relief. My daughter is getting better; it is official. The doctor even says she will make a full recovery (slowly), and without any of the possible scary long term effects I have read about.
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