Well, folks, let me tell you about the wild ride that was my return home from the hospital—a journey that felt more like a jailbreak than a leisurely drive. On Wednesday, the day finally arrived when I was sprung from my hospital prison. My mother-in-law, Kim, swooped in from New Jersey like an real-life guardian angel, ready to help me navigate the chaos of my new reality. Meanwhile my husband, Dave, transformed our home into a safe haven.
Getting into Kim’s car was a feat worthy of a circus act. Picture me, a not-so-delicate damsel in distress, trying to maneuver in my new “cement shoes” (a.k.a. the bulky boot on my left foot & cast on the right). Thankfully, a passing nurse came to my rescue, physically muscling me into the vehicle. She deserves an award for her efforts!
As we made our way home around 6pm, the rain was pouring down like Mother Nature was throwing me her own welcome home party. Meanwhile, my neighbor, Andy, was hard at work constructing a ramp to my front door. I could only imagine the scene: Andy, drenched and determined, while I sat under the lower-level awning in my wheelchair, trying to stay dry and not lose my mind. But as the daylight faded and the plywood soaked up the rain like a sponge, Andy had to call it a day.
So that first night at home was spent on a cot in the basement, with Kim stationed nearby to assist me. Let me tell you, there’s nothing quite like the joy of sleeping on a cot while your body reminds you that it’s been through the wringer.
It wasn’t until I was tucked away in my basement that the fog of my memory began to lift. I finally remembered the fall—the moment my world flipped upside down. It was like a missing puzzle piece suddenly reappearing, and honestly, it had driven me a little crazy during my hospital stay. In fact, countless people asked me the details of my accident while in the hospital, and since I’d been unable to explain it, those same people had also asked me if I’d hit my head in the fall. (I didn’t.) The shock of the whole ordeal had created a temporary black hole in my brain, and let me tell you, that gap was unsettling. What a way to kick off my grand return home!
Thursday morning brought more excitement. Andy returned to continue his ramp-building mission, and with a bit of determination (and a lot of sweat), Dave managed to push me up the gravel driveway and onto the ramp. It was not an easy feat, as I’m not exactly featherweight material. But nothing was going to stop Dave from getting me upstairs himself—ever my hero!
Once inside, Kim and Dave continued to tweak things to make my life easier. I was still heavily medicated and not exactly ready to start a marathon, but I was grateful for their efforts. I came home with a pharmacy’s worth of meds—seriously, I could open a drugstore—but by Friday, I decided to cut out the oxy. It made me feel unsteady on my feet, and let’s be real, another fall was the last thing I needed.
In the midst of all this chaos, Dave and I had a heart-to-heart about adopting the puppy we had been approved for while I was in the emergency room. Adopting Albus had been in the works prior to my injury, and we figured that adding a furry friend to our family might just be the mental health boost we needed. So, I followed up with the rescue to arrange a home visit on Saturday at 11am. Because who doesn’t want to add a little chaos to the mix, right?
As the day wore on, I found myself adjusting to my new reality and limitations. And let me tell you, it was not exactly a walk in the park. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this experience, it’s that life is a little more bearable with a sense of humor, good company, and maybe a puppy or two.
So here’s to new beginnings, unexpected challenges, and the joy of being home—cement shoes and all!