Where do we go from here?

Okay, so we are home.  All the medical equipment and supplies are unpacked all over the house.  We are starting to find some sort of schedule.  Visitors are coming by.  Clothes are getting laundered.  Some tiny sense of normalcy is returning.

This is the part I am worst at.  When you are in the hospital, your goal is to go home.  Once home, your goal is to get better.  Um, but I want to be better, whatever that looks like, now.  I've been known, on occasion, to push myself a little too soon (okay, so planting garlic when I got home from my angiogram was pushing the stupid envelope a little far).  Trying not to do that.  But what is too far?  Jaw stretches and walks around the house do not seem that productive, even though they are important.  It certainly isn't that I don't have things to do.  Piles of thank you notes beckon, to be sure.  Stacks of unread books.  Movies I've seen, and not.   But what I want to do is go outside.  Move leaves.  Dig in the dirt.  Lug canning boxes to the garage. Whatever else is on the verboten list.

Thank goodness for all the amazing help we have been getting.  I really have no idea what we would do without it.  It seems harder to me this time, though.  Ever try to write out how you sort your laundry?  I can't just call out an answer from the couch the answer to, "Where does this dish go?"

Serafina visited yesterday, which gave me a lot of encouragement.  She is out and about, driving, caring for her children, etc. and living her life.  That is where I want to be without all this pesky healing up stuff.

I am thankful for my very patient visitors.  They wait for me to write out my responses.  They look at me and converse with me, not looking around for someone else to fill in the details.  It is interesting to me how brave everyone thinks I am when really I'm terrified.  What will my life look like?  What will change?  What will stay the same?  What does the future hold for me?

Each day the bruises fade a little more.  The swelling goes down bit by bit.  I can wear my trach cap longer and make more sounds through it (although I sound like a Wookie).  Sleep comes easier.  I know each day with be better, I just don't like waiting.