Given that it’s after 10am on Sunday morning and I’m sitting in bed on cup of tea number 7 it’s easy to see things with a slight rosy tint but I really feel like I may have turned a corner.
I managed Friday night and Saturday with the children, managed to go out, even stood in the longest chip shop queue ever on Friday night (for the best ever cod supper). My house is a mess- which is actually a good sign as it indicates I’ve been relaxed enough to ignore what needs done in favour of lying watching TV.
I am due to go back to the hospital tomorrow, the plan is to gradually extend my time at home over the next 3 weeks (during which time my fantastic CPN is on holiday) but now I’m not so sure it will take so long. For the first time I feel a glimmer of “I don’t want to go back”.
The purpose the hospital serves in my recovery is quite easy to define- it’s a protective bubble, a place where I can just ‘be’ where no demands are made of me- except to stand in the twice daily queue for medication. It’s a sanctuary from normal life and one I have undoubtedly needed recently. Second time around it’s been a much more positive experience.
Second time around you know how it works; you know what to expect and when to expect it. Second time around you get less cards and flowers but staff know you better (and tell you they read your blog!). Second time around you don’t feel the need to seek validation for being there. Second time around I’m happy to be there for as long as I feel I need to be.
So I’ll go back tomorrow and see how it feels to be back safe in the knowledge that I can do it, I’ve just had to change my expectations of what it is.