He’s home.

I went up to the rehab this morning for what they call “family training” which is a weird thing to call whatever it was that I did. I sat in on his therapy sessions and they talked to both of us about what kinds of things we’ll need to do at home in order for him to continue to improve and be safe.

We will still have to see quite a few doctors over the next little while but the big important thing is that he is finally home, after more than two weeks. He was wheeled out to the lobby but he left the building on his own two feet.

AND NOW THE FUN BEGINS. My instinct is to jump up and assist but he needs to be able to do all that stuff on his own so all I can really do is go “you okay? You need anything? Are you warm enough?”


Now that the horrible medical-intensive part is over, I think I might be able to breathe again. For the past two weeks I have found myself taking deep breaths every now and again like I’d been forgetting to breathe normally throughout the day. I think maybe I can relax a little.

Thank you to everyone who has called and texted and Facebooked and stopped by and kept me going through all of this. Thank you from the bottom of my cold, black heart. This would have been a lot harder to go through it alone.

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