Loving the Front Porch

Some days I look around the house and think, "Jesus, we're home!" Generally I take it for granted. But every once in a while I remember. Then I take a deep breath and soak it all in.

There is no front porch at the hospital. No comfy couch. With only one room, you can't turn up the TV and laugh your ass off at The Office or 30 Rock. There is no grassy back yard with camping chairs and a cold beer.

Life at home is pretty good.

Life After the Hospital

I forget about this blog. I'm not sure why. I run through my on-line to-do list: (1) gmail (1162 unread messages) (2) facebook (139 new requests), (3) caring bridge.

I haven't been posting on Caring Bridge lately. What would I say? That I have an ulcer. That on mornings when I go to work, I usually start the day vomiting. That I go to bed at 8 pm because I'm just that exhausted. No one wants to hear that.

Being out of the hospital is supposed to be wonderful. And it is. But every day I think about cancer. Even as her hair grows back, I wonder, will she get to keep it this time? Or is there another round of chemo waiting? And if there is, what then?

And with being home, there is the obligation of work. "Normalcy". The days are long, but we're slow. And all I really care about is when I can escape to see the fam. When we're busy, it isn't as bad. With being busy, there are interesting cases and income ... and that will help us get back on our feet after the 6 month hospital stay. But when there are no patients and still I have to sit at work, I'm furious. Wasted time. 0 dollars an hour ... I'd rather be home, earning at the same rate.

And I suppose I should be thankful. Thankful that we're out of the hospital. Thankful that we're all together again. Thankful that I have a job despite the shitty economy. But I'm not that kind of woman.

I'm waiting for something to happen. Holding my breath. Hoping it doesn't comes. How will I know when it's safe to breathe again?