I'm at home, and I have been for two nights so far and it's been awesome. There are some ambivalencies, however: yes, I feel much better at home than I did in the hospital—I'm walking more steadily, I can use the toilet (and flush! what pleasure!), I usually leave my walker behind (it'll be great for Ian's and my first stroll to the end of the block with my auxiliary oxygen but it's mostly in the way in the house it turns out), and I'm eating more varieties of foods than just soup. But I'm also still so weak, and being back home I can really compare my weakness. The oxygen helps a lot—I was, in fact, pretty weak right before leaving home a month ago but minus 4 liters of pure oxygen being pumped into my body (at some rate that I don't actually know—I just know the volume). It's time, though, it suddenly occurs to me, to start referring to myself as strong, so I'll be making a concerted effort to do that from now on. So, some examples of my strength: 1. I'm not using my walker. 2. Ian and I went downstairs to watch Seinfeld and I carried myself down and up on my own two legs. 3. I have bathed, well. 4. I brush my teeth every night, and floss them.
Mom is here for most of the week to take care of me, but aside from a few things that I yet lack the strength to do and that have nothing to do with healthcare (ironing and hanging the curtain panels I ordered a month ago, mailing back the color I didn't like), there aren't really many tasks for her. She'll be driving me around a bit (we're quickly getting back to my chemo treatments and whatnot with my oncologist) . . . oh, and she did stand by for my long shower bath and she probably will again another few times. I'm not quite willing to do slippery/large volumes of water/cast iron things on my entire own yet . . .
And Spackle came home tonight! He Frenched me, accidentally of course but nevertheless. Welcome home doggie! Hoover is still out at the farm where Marsh has been a saint trying to train the very exuberant puppy . . . we want him back, too, but are worried about my strength in dealing with a chewer and 50 feet of delicious-looking oxygen cord so we're taking it day by day with plans for him.
Well, I think I'm finally starting to feel like getting into bed. I can choose when to do it now! I choose 11:30pm today.
7 comments:
I'm not strong enough to floss.
Wonderful news! We look forward to seeing you whenever you are up to it.
Wee-ha! Calin, I'm so glad to hear that you're easing back into the delicious comfort of being in one's own home. In Swedish there's an expression, "Borta bra men hemma bäst", which translates as "away is good, but home is best". It's slightly more diplomatic than "home sweet home", but what do you expect from the Swedes?
All I can say is Yea! Wow, that is the shortest rhyme I ever wrote.
Yay! I'm so glad you're back home. I've only ever spent my nights in the hospital once--and I was 10 weeks old at the time, so I don't remember it at all. But I imagine it can be VERY TEDIOUS. With your very sharp mind and strong spirit, I'm sure it was tough to be there for so long.
I'll be watching this blog to see when you're ready for visitors. I want very much to finally see you! (I was fighting a sore throat all last week, so I dutifully postponed coming to see you at the UW).
Again, YAY!!!!
So glad to hear the homecoming has happened and your strength is returning, Calin! And puppy kisses - what could be better?
Wow, flossing even. Good on ya!
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