#26  Sep 21^st Home!

I call Mike and let him know that he can come and get me any time now.  Within a half hour Tina arrives saying “Dad’s waiting in the car downstairs.” and we load up all my belongings.  There’s my computer, movies, my suitcase of clothes and toiletries, my pillow, some gifts: it seems like a lot of things to me.  Because I can walk but I’m not allowed to carry anything heavy, we use the provided wheel chair like a wagon.  Loaded and ready, we head down the hall.  I feel liberated, free from confinement and don’t even say goodbye to many people.  How rude!  I’m just too excited to be heading home. Down the elevator and out the front we go.  Mike is there holding the car door open for me. 

After feeling so strong and successful in hospital, the real world is a bit of a shock to my system.  I take a formidable amount of time to ease myself onto the seat in the Pathfinder and luckily I have my pillow from home. It’s now pressed into service as a cushion for my tummy where the seat belt is sitting. Once we start off, my abdomen feels every last pot hole, pebble and bump on the pavement. Not so self assured now, are you Jude.

Mike is being careful and driving slower than any other vehicle on the road today, but it still hurts me to bounce along, even in this comfortable car. Usually it would take 20 minutes or so to drive home, but this afternoon it seems interminable.  Once at home I set myself up on the sofa, surrounded by pillows and determine that I really won’t do much of anything today. The laundry I brought home with me will wait, and so will the unpacking. 

After a light dinner Mike and Tina are discussing who should be doing up the dishes.  This is too much for me.  I limp my way to the kitchen and propping my elbows up on the edge, proceed to wash up the few items in the sink. Tears start to well up. For some reason every little thing seems to bother me.  I just want to cry, quietly, without a big fuss, just a nice soft teary cry.  It’s probably just hormones or being so tired and sore. Maybe it’s the jangled nerves created by waiting for news about my cancer.  It’s going to be a long two weeks or so until I hear something.

By 9 that night I’m more than ready for bed and try to rest so I can get back to normal.  It’s good to be home.