Day 10

Wednesday, Day 10


Tuesday was my first day home. Mom picked me up from the hospital around 1. They wheeled me down to her minivan after stocking me up with Levaquin and Loratabs. Getting into the car was a little tricky, but not bad. The potholes were scary. I had one hand in a death grip around the arm rest and the other clutched my pillow tightly to the incision. The bumps were fine really. It was the anxiety that did me in. My muscles were so tense by the time I got home. The stairs to my second floor apartment were fine too. I just took them slowly.

It is tough being back home with no remote-control bed. It was hard to get comfortable with the slouchy couch cushions. With nothing to pull myself up with, I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get up.

My bed was definitely the scariest thing for me at home. It’s not firm. There is no incline, just a flat surface. I hadn’t laid flat at all yet. After about fifteen minutes of a mini-panic attack complete with labored breathing and pounding heart, I finally laid down with some help from my husband.

I don’t think you can ever be fully prepared for this experience, and as someone who has never been hospitalized before, this is probably not the best way to get your feet wet.

The biggest thing that I wasn’t ready for was what a toll this took on my husband and sister who were literally there day and night to make sure I was ok. For me, the support system was critical. I’m just a wimpy kid. Maybe I’m not such a wimp anymore. But I felt like I needed them for everything—moral support, dealing with doctors and nurses for my pain meds, taking me to the bathroom or for walks, and encouraging me through my morning bouts of depression. I know that the nurses can do a lot of those things too, but I could not have done this without the strong support of my family.

By the end of my nine day stay, Doug and Jessie were completely exhausted. I spent the last night alone to give them a much needed break. There were no more IVs or machines to drag around. But at home, too, it was frustrating. I couldn’t do anything at first. I felt so badly needing help with the simplest things.