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Thursday, December 20
home again. sort of.
I was discharged from the hospital today. Everyone with whom I've shared this news seems to be much more excited than I am. Personally, I could have used a couple more days in Room 9118.
For starters, I delivered Katy Claire at Winnie Palmer Hospital. I use the term "hospital" only because they do, since the place is more like a five-star hotel with a 24-hour concierge. The rooms are all private, with furniture that's more modern than medical. The bathrooms are nicer than mine (they even have salon-style hairdryers with attachments). The food is great, and it's served up as what you order, when you order it, from an extensive room service menu.
For three days, whether I've wanted a clean robe, peanut butter and graham crackers at 3am, or a freshly washed and warmed blanket, it's been mine for the asking. The staff at this place is amazing, too -- it's the first time I've ever been in any hospital where my nurse and my tech had meeting at my bedside at about 10pm at night, trying to coordinate my medication and the taking of my vitals so that they would "wake me up as few times as possible overnight."
!!!!
So I've come back to reality. It hit me somewhere between having to figure out what we were going to have for dinner and the asking of my favorite daily question, yelled by Connor on his way to the bathroom: "Mom, are you ready to WIPE SOME BUTT?"
But by far the worst part of coming home is that Katy Claire could not make the trip with me. She's doing great in every way, but she is too small to take all her feedings from a bottle yet. So while she gains size and strength, she still gets some of her milk through tube feedings, and she can't come home until she no longer needs to.
It's crazy how a place can feel like home with four people on one day, and then feel like someone's missing the next. Come on home, girl. We're ready for you.
For starters, I delivered Katy Claire at Winnie Palmer Hospital. I use the term "hospital" only because they do, since the place is more like a five-star hotel with a 24-hour concierge. The rooms are all private, with furniture that's more modern than medical. The bathrooms are nicer than mine (they even have salon-style hairdryers with attachments). The food is great, and it's served up as what you order, when you order it, from an extensive room service menu.
For three days, whether I've wanted a clean robe, peanut butter and graham crackers at 3am, or a freshly washed and warmed blanket, it's been mine for the asking. The staff at this place is amazing, too -- it's the first time I've ever been in any hospital where my nurse and my tech had meeting at my bedside at about 10pm at night, trying to coordinate my medication and the taking of my vitals so that they would "wake me up as few times as possible overnight."
!!!!
So I've come back to reality. It hit me somewhere between having to figure out what we were going to have for dinner and the asking of my favorite daily question, yelled by Connor on his way to the bathroom: "Mom, are you ready to WIPE SOME BUTT?"
But by far the worst part of coming home is that Katy Claire could not make the trip with me. She's doing great in every way, but she is too small to take all her feedings from a bottle yet. So while she gains size and strength, she still gets some of her milk through tube feedings, and she can't come home until she no longer needs to.
It's crazy how a place can feel like home with four people on one day, and then feel like someone's missing the next. Come on home, girl. We're ready for you.
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