There was a gentleman in the hospital room right next door to mine who kept forgetting to breathe. Why did I just tell you this? Because the hospital was kind enough to blast some sort of foghorn sounding device as a gentle reminder to him to breathe whenever he forgot. He forgot to breathe a lot. A LOT! My doctor told me I could go home as soon as I felt up to it. Thanks to breathless dude, I'm home sooner than I probably wanted to be. Tom and the kids can be my nurses until my mom gets here tomorrow.
I'm sleepy, tired, in pain, queasy, whiny, kinda hungry, covered in hives and extremely boobless. But I'm home. And as far as I can tell, no one in my house seems to be having any problems breathing - so I think I'll finally get some sleep.
I'm proud to say I walked through that part of my journey without many tears since waking up in the recovery room. I can feel God's hand with me - guiding me to my next step (a scary one.) Monday I go in to have the bandages removed.