So, today, everything is, as the saying goes, back to norbal. An additional anticoagulant having been added to her personal pharmacy, the treatment plan seems to be twofold: (a) keep close eye on her blood pressure and cholesterol, add this new drug to her mix, hoping that lack of a recurrence of this sort of event demonstrates the sufficiency of this treatment, and (b) stand by for a round of much more intrusive neurological studies if a third incident tells us that the current approach isn't working. Thus we float happily along, equally prepared for the dual eventualities of a long and productive existence on the one hand, and sudden disaster on the other; with the third possibility of more interruptions of uncertain cost and duration coming up as punctuation marks in the idyll of this happy life. In other words, hardly could one envision a more typical state of human existence.
Meanwhile (and in anticipation of a post that I've been working on awhile) let me just say that I've figured out the very strange issue I've been struggling with: I'm trying to get used to the idea of being, on the whole, at the current stage of my life, what is called successful. More on that when I get further on said essay.