Home Again, Home Again …

I would like to give you all a very personal thank you. Three weeks in the hospital is a long time. I was there two day short of that, and each one of you helped me get through it—whether by sending cards, replying to this blog, texting me, or in a myriad of other ways. Several times, an uplifting meme or gif would arrive at the exact moment I was struggling to stay cheerful and positive. I won’t lie—there were tears. But again and again, something from one of you would lift me back up. There are too many individuals to name, which in itself is such a blessing. So, to all of you, thank you. Truly.

I am also incredibly blessed to have had what I called my “hospital room care team.” These are the amazing souls who spent days and nights in that room so I was never alone. They talked with me when I was down, laughed with me when I was up, found shows for us to watch together, and helped distract me from the NG tube and the “no water” rules. They walked with me, held my hand when I shivered in that arctic-feeling room, and most importantly, they were simply there—offering constant love and support. I can’t imagine how hard those days would have been when Jim had to step away, if they hadn’t been there. On my walks around the floor, I saw so many patients alone. Nurses told me that one of the biggest issues with long-term in-care patients is loneliness. Thank you for making sure I never faced that battle.

Of course, Jim was the head of this team. He was amazing through the entire “three-week” journey (yes, we’re jokingly rounding up). When I was out of it after surgery, and during times when the pain was so intense I couldn’t think or communicate, he spoke with the medical staff for me. Everyone should have such a dedicated advocate. I could never list everything he did—you would be reading a short book! But one of the most important things he did was organize and lead my room-care team. He made sure someone was always with me when he had to leave. There were days he had to go home or work, and as you can imagine, he missed a lot of work through this ordeal. That team allowed him to be present for critical things when needed, and I love each of you for that. Thank you for being there with him, and with me.

Now that I’m home, true healing can begin. As wonderful as my support team was, they couldn’t stop the beeping IV pole, the 2 AM X-ray technician repositioning me on hard boards, the 3 AM blood draw, the 4 AM vitals check, and the constant parade of hospital activity. Sleep is a rare gift in a hospital. Being home means I sleep in my own room, with no interruptions—unless I’m snoring loud enough that Jim gives me a gentle nudge. True story… I am a terrible snorer when I’m tired!

One of my healing directives is to walk every day. Today, Jim is making a big Sunday dinner and invited the kids, but we didn’t have all the ingredients. He asked if I felt up for a ride and a walk through Walmart. I thought, sure, I can lean on the cart if I need to, and he didn’t need many items—why not? Well… after almost an hour, the smile in the picture he posted is very much a “fake it till you make it” smile. I was absolutely exhausted getting back to the car. I’m glad I went because I proved I could do it. But I also learned I need to take it slow, and Dr. Poultcides would be proud — he wants me to walk.

So, in conclusion, I want to once again say thank you. You can never truly know the depth of my gratitude. Whether you supported me with a prayer, a text, a visit, or in any other way, you made the past three weeks so much more bearable than you will ever realize.

With all my love and thanks!