I know. It's been a loooong time since my last post. Since I've been home there just hasn't been the same amount of time to reflect, to pour out my thoughts via typing on a computer. And, to tell you the truth it's been quite an adjustment. More on that later.
I got out of the hospital on February 1st. Roger's uncle, Colin was there to escort me to the door and my Aunt Nia was there to whisk me home. I arrived Orcas in the early evening, and upon pulling into the driveway of our little house in the woods, I could see my little family waiting for me in the window. I couldn't take it. The tears came flowing forth. I got out of the car and was in full ugly cry before I hit the front door. There were so many thoughts, so much emotion flooding my mind and heart. It hit me so hard how lucky I was to be coming home, that had things been different I might not have returned home at all. Or that I might have returned with only one of my legs. At one time not so long before, these were slight but very real possibilities. Thank God neither of these came to pass. So, I hope you can imagine what it was like for me to go inside my house and kiss my honey and my babes and my mom and dad. I will always remember that day and how it felt to embrace all that without taking even one little bit of it for granted.
Fast forward to today. I am healing well. I am told that I am healing better than the average Joe, and for that I am truly grateful, but the whiny little kid part of me keeps asking, "are we there yet?" I have family and friends who sacrifice and come from far and wide to make sure I have some help almost every day (insert applause here). I have a home health nurse that comes from Friday Harbor four mornings per week to do my wound care. She is a most wonderful woman and I'm going to step out on a limb here and say she has become my friend as well as my nurse. I no longer have the wound vacuum, and am back to traditional wet gauze dressing that has to be changed twice per day. Fortunately, it rarely hurts except for the occasional stubborn tape debacle, and my oh-so-sainted husband has taken over my wound care every night and all weekend long. Yep, we get to play doctor.
My wound is the shape of a samurai sword and goes from my hip to just above my knee on the outside of my right leg. The lateral part of the sword's handles are healed together into purple scars. The vertical part, or the bottom of the sword is completely filled in with tissue and is just this week beginning to scar up as well. The blade of the sword, while considerably smaller than it once was, is still open and has a bit of depth to it, though it too is filling in. Mind you, I know all this by looking at a photograph, not by actual sight. My surgeon says I need to make friends with my wound, but I haven't quite gotten there yet. Go figure.
I've been back to Harborview for three checkups and have had a few setbacks in the form of little tracts in my wound. I won't go in to explaining exactly what these are, but to say they are little voids that get healed over by new tissue, and when you close up a wound, you don't want any voids, as they can lead to infection. I am told they are quite normal during the healing process, but again, insert whiny little kid here.
And here for that matter, where I tell you that even though I know exactly how lucky I am, and that I have great days when I feel as if I am almost normal again, I also experience some low points. I can't help feeling guilty about these times because, quite simply, I'M ALIVE. And I'm not in the hospital anymore. Period. But still. There are parts of being home and feelings that I never anticipated. It's kind of a funk, really, and there are many reasons for it. I get tired very easily, and though I am so very grateful to have a friend or family member to help every day, sometimes that can be hard too--to be "on" all the time. I feel as if I have all these things to do, but am not doing any of them very well at all. I am a bit cooped up as I am in my house a LOT. Up until recently I wasn't driving at all. My wound care takes up a good few hours of my mornings, so that cancels out going to any playgroups or activities I could do with the little babes to help me get to know my new community more. By the time Roger does my wound care at night we are both just shot. Plus, we are new to the crazy Club Havingthreekids and aren't going at it with our normal stores of health, energy and time. Then there are the medications. I won't even go into that other than to say I am looking forward to the day when I can put my weekly pill organizer away. Oh--and some advice--don't forget to take your meds. No es bueno. There's more where all this came from, but whiny little kid needs to stop. Seriously. Alive. Health. Home. Family. I have these, and these are all I need right now to get me to the other side of this thing.
As I type this in my bed, I hear the soft, rhythmic breathing of my husband and my 3-month-old baby girl. Upstairs are my boys in their respective beds. Each time I stop and acknowledge this very basic but beautiful reality, I am truly happy. Sometimes I take it further--the truly amazing natural world that lies just outside my door, and then to you--my family and friends. My People. You continue to surround me with your thoughts, your love, through whatever means you have chosen, be it direct or indirect. As I have said before, you are helping me to heal. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
P.S. Thanks for bearing with my Whine-a-thon. xoxo
