The butterfly has flown from the hospital walls. But that's not the whole of the story, I'm learning. Here I am on day 43 post transplant, realizing how much is left to this process.
It's hard to be filling my body with drugs, to have to shun the sun, to not be able to prepare and eat foods the way I am used to; in general, to not be able to care for myself in the way that seems best to me. I am sleeping poorly, which is uncommon for me, and waking up dopey from the drugs I take to try to fall asleep.
But my boys are home, and there are lots of little milestones to shoot for. The weekly trips to Boston should only last a few more weeks before they become monthly. In October I will hit the 100 day mark. And someday this will be a full year behind me, and things will be back to normal.
This period of convalescence is confusing for me. For the most part, I feel really good. And yet, the restrictions get into my head. I feel more limited than I am because I know. I know I have to wait on the cessation of these medications to get my body back. I know I have to wait on the full transition to get my normal back. But in the meantime, my life is mostly mine. I have my books, my boys, my home. I have all my support people. I have everything I need.
I have to embrace this and find myself right here, intentionally. And as the days pass, I am finding it easier to do. This is real life.