We are home. We drove home yesterday and it wasn’t too bad. I had to slow down for potholes and warn my man about any grooved pavement or big bumps, but we made it.
It is strange to be back. I feel sad and weepy, and am giving myself a hard time. Surgery went well, we are home earlier than expected- everything is hunky dory so what is your problem lady!!!
Our daughter cried in the highway rest stop toilet yesterday. I was yelling at our son who wanted to be in the men’s room with papa: “papa is injured you can’t be with papa,” I argued impatiently while trying to keep my son from opening the door to the stall. When I turned around our daughter was crying. “What is wrong,” I asked. “I don’t know,” she answered. I gave her a big hug, “This is a hard time for our family, but we are doing great,” I explained. That apple doesn’t fall far from the tree: poor girl. Our daughter is emotional, our son is a menace- they held it together while we were away at the hospital and now they are letting it all hang out. And I guess I am too.
As for my man. He has retreated into his own recovery world. Now that he doesn’t have nurses and doctors checking him he does it himself. He takes being a patient very seriously, and that is what he needs to do. But it takes him away from us- and I miss him and so do the kids. He is here but not really- it is hard to give him that, but I am working on it.
I had a good cry in the car on the way back from the grocery store yesterday. Then the kids and I took a walk and played tag in the back yard. “I was surprised you played tag with us,” said my daughter. Papa is the player in the family. But I had fun and it made me feel better. I will try and remember that in the coming weeks.