I wanna go home

It’s late. There’s a crazy person out there saying something about “I have to go home”. The voice is of an adult woman. The content is that of a scared child. A bit of a disconnect.

Trying to sleep. Catch a few non-contiguous hours. Woke up enough to ask for tylenol and if it’d be okay to turn off my neighbor’s tv. (It’d been going non-stop all day and they’re asleep snoring). Yes to both.

This nurse rocks. She shut the door to keep the crazy out, maybe I could get some sleep…at least a few hours. I get a shot in my belly once every few hours – some multisyllabic thing that prevents blood clots. If I hear the name, I’ll remember. All I need to know is that I’ll get another one in a bit; that I’m to take an aspirin every day from now on.

“I wanna go home”

I can empathize.

Know what I want? A shower. My own toothbrush. Bare feet on my own rug. The dog.

Slow wobbly steps first.

I am walking mostly straight lines. It takes some concentration, but it’s happening. Remarkable, really. So a stroke will kill off a portion of the brain. The portion that got hit was small, and there are enough nerves around that portion to pick up the slack. I’d walk home tomorrow except for the promise I made to Cody not to do that. We practiced walking.

Liz showed up this morning with flowers and a chai soy latte and a balloon. The best part of it was Liz. Everything else is a close second. She’s been making corroboratory posts that I am as okay as I say I am.

She came back later to provide chill company. “See? I can stop talking.”

Changing of the guard. Poor Cody ended up waiting for two hours while I was off getting an electro echo cardiogram. The upshot of which is this…the two halves of my heart (like 25% of adults) is not actually closed off from one another. I see this with the injection of aerated saline that goes into one side and leaks its luminous shiny bubbles into the other. Not sure what this means. But it is a clue to this stroke thang. I was hoping to return to my boys, but nope. Still good to find a good friend.

Why do I feel a need to host even though it’s just a hospital room?

We practiced walking. Kim and Matt showed up. I think we laughed a little bit too much. Maybe not. You really can’t laugh too much, can you? I talked to the boys. Made sure they knew I was okay. Aidan said, “I’ve been keeping up on facebook.” Love him. Love them. Connor was worried. I broke it down. Mini-stroke sounds horrible. Moving to the right, and now moving straight – not so much. Gabriel? “I love you mom.” That’s enough.

I sleep. I wake up. I read the mail and posts. I have over two hundred comments and messages from friends and family and I am feeling terribly loved and cared for. I am grateful.

The tiredness hit. I slept. I am awake again.

“I wanna go home”.

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