I made my escape on Tuesday last week, but haven't got around to posting until now because I've been getting my bearings again and settling back in. It takes a surprising amount of energy to come out of hospital, especially after two admissions in such quick succession, and no real respite of any kind in between. Hmmm, come to think of it I should probably retitle this post as 'Home again, home again, floppety flop.'
It's good to be home. It's good to be surrounded by my own belongings and to have the cat give me cuddles and purrs. It's good to have my own space and not have an institutional timetable running my life. It's something of a relief too not to know what my blood pressure is, or my temperature, or my oxygen saturations, or my respiration rate, and it's good not to have to score my pain on a scale of 0-10. Instead, I live in blissful ignorance of all these things and get on with what I can of living. The only trouble being that I'm completely knackered and not completely well. In fact I was back at the GP's on Friday, and in a bid to stave off a resurgance of the bugs he's throwing another week's course of antibiotics at them. I think they're working, and I'm feeling less lurgified than I was at the end of last week.
Despite all the pleasures of being back at home, I have to admit that I'm struggling a little emotionally. I think some of this is post-infection and the aftermath of pneumonia, but there's also the whole thing of getting my head around having been so poorly yet again. It's draining - emotionally and physically. I am completely worn out, and yet I'm trying to get on with what I can of living, so I'm back at university already (I went back on Thursday), and I've a fairly busy week this week with seeing family (my brother M and his family are coming up for a few days from tomorrow), as well as test-driving a couple of WAVs, sorting out missed hospital appointments, and trying to make time and find the energy for some writing. It's too much really, and today I have somewhat resembled a heap of misery and grumpiness for most of the day. Actually, I was doing okay first thing, at least I thought I was, although I could feel all the mess not too far below the surface and was trying to ignore it. Then my mum phoned to see how I was doing and all of a sudden I dissolved into tears and spent the next 45 minutes being a gibbering wreck on her. Most of the rest of the day has been much the same ever since, only it got a little worse when my carer didn't turn up this evening with no call. W came to the rescue, came round, and cheered me up just by being here, even though she had to bring her poorly guinea pig with her and he died while they were here :o( Very sad.
So yes, it's a bit of a mix and I'm rather lacking in jiggety jig, but all in all it is good to be home, and I'll work my way through the emotional debris somehow ... in time.