A light at the end of the tunnel-Day #12

12 days. Geez. That is forever. I have watched patients come and go. Check in and check out. Nurses on shift and off. Everything is continuing on but we feel like our world has stopped. When we are here it is such a surreal experience. Life goes on without us. People come and go, hustle and bustle and we just stay. It seems like barely anytime has passed but at the same time, I feel like we have been here forever.

Doc said those magic words today. We can go home Wednesday. Finally. That will be 15 days. 15 days. Half a month. One pay period. A long stinkin time.

We will go home NOT on IV's which is so incredibly weird. We have NEVER, may I repeat NEVER gone home and NOT done IV's. It is totally wigging me out. I mean, I get to go home and sleep. Through the night. Not have to go by the pharmacy and pick up a back seat of IV's, meds, and supplies. Not clear out an entire shelf in my fridge. Not turn my dinner table into a mini hospital. Not get up every 2 hours and change his IV's. Not worry about his needle and IV's while at school. We have been doing this since....forever. Almost 11 years.

Part of me feels like it isn't right. I am concerned he isn't healthy enough to stop, to be quite honest, his cough isn't all that much better and his weight is way down. I am praying he doesn't relapse and I pray we don't end up back here soon. I am curious to what his PFT's will be when we leave and then in one week and two weeks. I am curious to what his normal specialist will say when we have an appointment in 2 weeks and what his lung culture will say. I hope those 2 strains of resistant colonized pseudomonas are asleep by then or at least not active and ravaging his lungs.

But today, for the first time in a while, I could see that light at the end of the tunnel knowing we would be in our own beds on Wednesday night. Away from intrusive medical personnel coming and going at all times of the day and night. Away from the questions, the beeping, the loud talking and slamming of doors in the hall. Away from the dinging of the elevator just enough in earshot to lull me to sleep at night. Away from the machines ticking and tocking and chugging and beeping 2 feet from my head. Home. Oh, I can't wait.

I can't wait to be able to roam free at will and go to my own kitchen. To get my own stuff and not have to ask. To cuddle my family and just be with them. I think I even miss that annoying dog barking next door.

I am pushing towards that light and through the next few days where we can almost taste freedom. I am working through emotions with Kaleb on all he has missed and catching up on his work. I am trying not to think about when we will be back and what our next stay will hold.

For this moment I am thinking about freedom and all those things we take for granted in our day to day life. The smell of brewing coffee. The hum of my ceiling fan. To be able to control the temperature in our house or drive my car. The sound of my kids laughing and playing together and hearing my sweet husband breath at night next to me. To have clean clothes and to tuck Hannah in bed. To see people in more than hospital scrubs. To have a moment to myself to just breath. To cry. To wind down. To let go. To get myself together again so I can push on.....

I see the light at the end of the tunnel.....