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John's coming home on Thursday. By the time I write this and proof it, it will be Wednesday. On Wednesday I have a doctor's appointment I cannot miss. (A new primary doctor and I have been holding off on dealing with different health issues until after John's okay. It's getting to the point they have to be dealt with and I don't want to meet with this new doctor for the first time with a full list.) That afternoon his healthcare supplies will arrive here, and some setting up is required before John gets home. (Delivery people will set up what I can't, which is a relief because I've got so little mechanical abilities.) And then I have to get the last minute things ready. (Clear off his sofa, so it becomes "his sofa" again.)
The big day is quickly approaching. I am so happy about that I don't know what to do.
On Memorial Day weekend, (not even three weeks ago), he ended up in ICU and then stuck in that damn hospital for four days, simply because hemorrhoids caused bleeding once! It was over before he got into that hospital! It should have been an overnight stay if they took it as seriously as they did, but the rest was pretty much the same as the last five times he ended up in that hospital -- regulations and covering their own bottoms took precedence over helping the patient. Since January 13th, the day he was transferred back into the hospital, I've been holding my breath waiting for them to chip away more and more with his spirit while they excel at their incompetence. I'm still afraid they'll send him back to that hospital over some little silly thing, and we rabbit hole again, but I'm pretty sure that won't happen too.
So, I've been hoping and praying he comes home, forever holding my breath because so many things did go wrong, and utterly busy dealing with the rest of life's everyday problems while feeling constantly depleted the entire time.
I'm watching TV tonight and burst out crying. It wasn't happy. It wasn't sad. No idea what it was, but, because I don't know why, it starts over again at any given moment. I've got to get through tomorrow. There is no Plan B. John's so very excited to be coming home that I certainly don't want to burst his bubble by bursting into tears with absolutely no understanding of why.
This feels so stupid, but I could use some prayers, because I also have to drive him home and fear I'll burst into tears then too.
The big day is quickly approaching. I am so happy about that I don't know what to do.
On Memorial Day weekend, (not even three weeks ago), he ended up in ICU and then stuck in that damn hospital for four days, simply because hemorrhoids caused bleeding once! It was over before he got into that hospital! It should have been an overnight stay if they took it as seriously as they did, but the rest was pretty much the same as the last five times he ended up in that hospital -- regulations and covering their own bottoms took precedence over helping the patient. Since January 13th, the day he was transferred back into the hospital, I've been holding my breath waiting for them to chip away more and more with his spirit while they excel at their incompetence. I'm still afraid they'll send him back to that hospital over some little silly thing, and we rabbit hole again, but I'm pretty sure that won't happen too.
So, I've been hoping and praying he comes home, forever holding my breath because so many things did go wrong, and utterly busy dealing with the rest of life's everyday problems while feeling constantly depleted the entire time.
I'm watching TV tonight and burst out crying. It wasn't happy. It wasn't sad. No idea what it was, but, because I don't know why, it starts over again at any given moment. I've got to get through tomorrow. There is no Plan B. John's so very excited to be coming home that I certainly don't want to burst his bubble by bursting into tears with absolutely no understanding of why.
This feels so stupid, but I could use some prayers, because I also have to drive him home and fear I'll burst into tears then too.