My darling Anissa,
Well you've gone and done it. You 'sploded the interwebs. I can't believe that this whole nightmare has only been going on for two days. I feel like we've been waiting for you to wake up forever, dude. You've gone and caused so much draaaaaaaaama! People are coming out of the WOODWORK for you, all "I don't know Anissa, but everyone who's cool likes her, so she must be AWESOME" or "Anissa? Not familiar with her work, but I hear her rack is spectacular," you know, typical stuff.
I don't think we've ever talked about it, but I have some experience with comas as well, missy, so don't go thinking you're patenting this little adventure. I was in my coma for SIX DAYS, and Anissa? You are not ALLOWED to be in yours for that long. I simply won't allow it.
I don't remember a lot about that time, other than wanting so badly to move, to open my eyes, and my damn body wouldn't let me. I bet you're going through that too, as your wonderful Peter reported that you're making very deliberate movements with your left side, grabbing for his hand, etc. You're opening your eyes, too, which is awesome. You're working so hard, and I know you must be exhausted. But the Anissa I know would never whine that she was too tired. Girl, you have so much here waiting for you! But you know that. You know those kids of yours need you, that Peter needs you, that the entire god damn internet has camped out at your virtual door to keep an eye on you.
We all have pom poms, Anissa. Fair warning.
Anyway, my love, rest up and heal. We're all here for you, all the time, and we're not going anywhere. Talk to you tomorrow, sweets.
PS: I owe you, like, fifty menthol cigarettes, so you know, you've got to get on me for that. Just sayin.