Honestly, I don't think I want to remember any of it. By all accounts, it was the fight of my life. Well, I find myself still fighting. I am a ghost of who I used to be, down to skin and bones. Hospital food isn't too bad, unless you're dealing with food aversion (why not add one more thing to the list?) I am told I wasn't so far off last time and managed to recover, so that's the goal now - get home to recover.
I am coming out of the fog now, though I find myself in a mental loop where things repeat themselves over and over again, and I don't know which instance is reality. Yes, that's quite a bit of fun. According to me, I've spoken to my husband seven times this morning... except it's only been once.
As I sort through all this and work on grounding myself, I also look at the time I've been here. Ten weeks so far and counting. Ten weeks I mostly don't remember. It really is difficult to keep a good attitude and hope alive when you're in the hospital this long. And yet, there's only one way forward - one step at a time, one foot in front of the other (ok, truth be told, I'm walking with my feet spread out these day to try to stay balanced. My grandma would be aghast! Ladies walk in one track).
My husband, my dad, and my girls have been troopers through all this. I rarely am without a family member in here to keep me company for a little while, in spite of the 1.5 hour drive, traffic, and all those wonderful surprises you can find in freeways in Southern California.
I've been so touched by the many messages and support. They really do lift me up and help me keep fighting. If I don't reply to everything, please understand it isn't a lack of willingness, but a lack of bandwidth.
As things progress, I hope to continue with updates through here. And I hope they progress enough that I can go home in the next ten days or so. The finish line is visible, please don't let it shift on me yet again.
