Yes, indeed, I am home.
And home has worn me out. My house feels a little like a foreign land. The formerly natural daily routine has become awkward, like I've been thrust into a square dancing competition. My legs are sore from, I kid you not, walking up the stairs in my house. It's the most walking I've done in weeks. But I can tell you that it's a whole heck of a lot better than the heart palpitations that plagued me months ago whenever I went up the stairs.
Last night, I found it difficult to sleep in my own bed. I struggled for ages to get settled in what used to be a comfortable bed. I spend a month sleeping on a plastic encased mattress and pillows, with bed rails on either side, and no matter how much I lowered the dang thing, always on a slight incline. I was woke several times during the night by nurses to poke and prod me. Finally, I get home to my own quiet, darkened, comfy bedroom, and I turn into a freakin' insomniac. Then I woke at 4:30 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. Awesome.
So, this whole transition to life on furlough is going to take some time. Reestablishing my relationship with Little A seems to be turning into a process as well. There was a bit of a meltdown at breakfast this morning that depressed me, but by the end of the day we were frolicking in an empty box and imitating Dancing With the Stars. But I have to admit that it's mighty depressing when your toddler with whom you spent most waking hours is suddenly intrepid around you.
I go for my follow-up visit tomorrow morning. Before I left yesterday, the lab results were still inconclusive on my final neutrophil count. As a result, I am still on neutropenic precautions: no fresh fruits, flowers, plants, or veggies; strict hand washing; avoid public places where exposure to germs could be high. This is mildly frustrating since returning home and seeing all the blooming life in my yard and subsequently dying to get my hands in the earth and do some gardening. Plus, there's this little movie called Iron Man I'd like to catch. Here's to hoping that tomorrow's blood draw reveals a decent count that would allow me to get back more of my normal life and allow me to eat a freakin' apple.
Geez people. Give a girl a break.
In my last few days of incarceration, I added yet another book to my list, the hardcover Marvel Zombies, bringing my total tomes consumed to 15. Need some recommended summer reading?
For the next few days I'll be trying to ease back into my old routine and life around the house, unpacking my stuff (I swear it's like moving home from your college dorm room. I've practically got a whole new library which only contributes to my existing, ahem, problem with books.), and getting a small posse of sellables together for my church's yard sale Saturday. All this while I'm still trying to heal and my marrow attempts to get with the program of making my blood.
Overly ambitious? Or just me?
Glad to be back, folks. Stick with me; I guarantee this won't be my last medical adventure.