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Going home

After 4 weeks in hospital the doctors have told me I can go home tomorrow. I text a few family and friends earlier to tell them and they're so excited. So why aren't I?

It's not that I don't want to go home. I do. Desperately. I want to wake up in the mornings next to my husband. I want to put my kids to bed at night and watch them sleep, looking like angels. I want to go to Tesco and do laundry and all the other boring stuff that makes up life. 

But it wasn't supposed to be like this. 


In my head I was going to come into hospital, have the operation and come home 'fixed'. Maybe I'd told the kids that simplified version so many times that I had started to believe that it really was that simple. 

According to the pre-op letter I was only supposed to be in 4 nights, but we told the kids 2 weeks just to be on the safe side. I never imagined that I would be in for double that. I should have known really that this is me we're talking about and nothing ever goes to plan. 

I certainly didn't expect to be coming home still needing TPN (feed). I was hoping that I would be able to clear all the medical equipment out of the house so that it no longer resembled a community hospital but it seems the drip stand and that bloody rucksack will be with me for some time yet. 

As it stands I'm on liquids only at the moment so will need 'topping up' until I'm eating and drinking properly. That could be weeks. It could be months. No-one knows. 

I also didn't expect there to be this much pain. I knew I would have pain immediately after the surgery but I expected it to die down and then go away. Maybe I wasn't being realistic. Maybe I was hoping that was how it would be. 

I thought that that they would take the Stoma away and everything would be fine. I would be 'normal' again. But I'm still left with insides jumbled up, full of adhesions and scar tissue. My stomach still resembles an AA road map and I'm still going to need medication to keep everything ticking over, at least for now. 

What I have to try and remember is that the operation was successful, I didn't need that second emergency operation and there's nothing majorly wrong with my bowels other than them being stubborn and refusing to work quite as they should. I have bowels with attitude...would you expect anything less from me?

Writing this has made me realise I have a lot to be thankful for. I'm sure my kids won't care if I'm having to 'hook up' to feed at home, because I will be at home. And that's the important thing. It doesn't matter if I can only drink ensures and eat mash and gravy at home, because I will be at home. It doesn't matter that it wasn't supposed to like this. Because I will be at home. 

Actually, I'm quite excited now about going home. I'm still a bit scared and I know there's still a long road ahead of me. But I'm going home! 
I'M GOING HOME! 
I'M ACTUALLY GOING HOME! 

NB x

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