As my typing became more fluent and the pain in my hands decreased, I moved from only describing actions to discussing motives and making conjectures....I have kept my diary ever since, a few minutes each night, and it is to that diary and the contributions of others you owe my story. Initially Trish did my shopping but began to suggest that I try to do it myself. Now I was visiting the hospital twice a week and I hated the short journey there. It was hard work on crutches, and I longed to be. The whip followed. As I twisted myself in his grip, I sent the whip toward his head, my one last chance to snatch victory from the hideous tusked jaws of planetary defeat.I had miscalculated. As usual. The whip was far too long to pick up any speed. It was far too long to do any damage. He made no effort to get out of its way. He just stood there, his head no more than ten feet above mine, his greenish saliva dripping into my face and eyes, and let the light rope coil around his neck — once,. More

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