An email arrived in my Inbox recently. The subject: A bit of good news.

In a brief paragraph forwarded to my sister and me, my cousin’s girlfriend announced that my cousin William, who suffered a stroke this past summer, was going into the hospital to have his PEG (feeding tube) removed.

Good news, indeed.

The situation surrounding my cousin’s stroke would lend to a compelling mini-series.

He, apparently, just slumped over after coming up from a dive during a scuba diving excursion on the other side of the world. Thanks to trip insurance, he was airlifted to a hospital in Singapore.

Extraordinary right? But in many ways the adventure just began at that point.

His girlfriend, who, in her life, spent little time outside of Long Island, headed to Singapore and practically camped out at the hospital. Over weeks, she had to communicate with medical professionals and make sense of his situation.

She consulted with embassy, insurance, and financial people until she could figure out a way to get him back home. Of course, she sent regular emails to family and friends, interested in the drama that was unfolding, and listened to our well-intended advice.

William lost his ability to speak and had difficulty swallowing. a PEG tube was inserted. He communicated largely through a board where I guess letters could be pointed out. His mobility was minimal.

Mary Ellen reported on his thoughts about things. She was the go-between when we wagered a pizza on whether the Cubs would beat the Mets in the National League championship series. (He won the bet, but couldn’t eat the pizza.)

Like the Prego spaghetti sauce tag line …”It’s in there….” I had the understanding that William was still IN the body that we thought of as his, but that he couldn’t interact with his family or function in the world as he had done previously.

He was still WILLIAM.

Amazingly, he kept up his spirits well enough as he went through the hard work of learning how to do simple things (or things most of us think of as simple). Patience was never one of his virtues and this alone is incredible.

He was also bent on finding a way to still be of use, to have a positive impact in the world — even if he couldn’t drive or carry groceries. Last month, I received an email from Mary Ellen that he has been seeing a few patients again. (Mid-life, he became a psychotherapist.)

Mary Ellen’s devotion and understanding have been immeasurable. After arranging the medical escort to deliver him to New York, she had to arrange care for him at a series of hospitals and centers then focused on bringing him home and supervising his rehab herself.

She reported on his various institutional moves, but the updates became less frequent. Maybe I didn’t think I could do much for either of them, being 800 miles away. My queries slowed down too.

I’m so happy for my cousin, at reaching this milestone, and so grateful for the unwavering devotion and sacrifice of his partner.

I’m also piqued by the general rarity of announcing or sharing GOOD NEWS.

We are constantly bombarded by news of tragedies or world events that could be spun into anxiety to the umpteenth power, but our lives actually revolve around the little things that foster encouragement or disappointment.

It’s in sitting around the dinner table (or checking an Inbox) and learning about a child’s A on a test or friend’s decision to go back to school or the availability of purple potatoes at the local farmer’s market that we decide how we want to live our daily lives and be in the world.

A bit of good news is no small thing.