I knew I would be staying overnight in the hospital and I came prepared with the amenities a gal like me would expect, communications and entertainment. Mars left to go home a little while ago. Moving my upper body hurts, there is no other way to describe it. So, I’m in bed with no chance of getting around. Using the bathroom is a special kind of chore. The night nurse gave me a treat, two Percocet, instead of one. I can’t quite figure out the appeal of the prescription pain killer. They seem to make me sleepy, but I don’t get a buzz. The appeal is lost on me.

I turn off the television and fall asleep around midnight. Mars called me to say good night. I think I’m more worried about him than I am about me. He’s a strong guy but I’ve been taking care of him for so long, I’m not sure how he’d make it on his own. Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about that, I’m not going anywhere for a very long time. I sleep for a few hours. Around 3 am, Night Nurse comes in to check on me. I have sleeves on that massage my calves at different intervals to prevent blood clots. They feel fantastic and I’m wondering how to make this happen at home. I also have a blood pressure cuff on my right calf. Night Nurse disconnects me from all of my gadgetry and helps me to the bathroom. And since I’m awake, she takes the opportunity to show me how my drains work. Yep, 3 am. This confirms what I’ve always heard, the hospital is the very worst place in the world to get sleep. I think under a bridge of a highway overpass would be more peaceful. The meds are still coursing through my system and I fall back to sleep pretty easily.

It’s Wednesday morning, my eyes naturally open at 5:30 am. I turn the television on and watch the morning news. And there goes the remote on the floor. So now. I will watch 5:30, 6. and 6:30 news….the same stories over and over again. Groundhog Day. When Night Nurse comes in to check on me in preparation for the shift change, I ask her when she thinks I will be able to go home. She doesn’t know. It will depend on what the doctor says. Makes sense. Truth be told, the nurses run the show, they’re the unsung heroes. The doctors get the glory.

Around 7:30 am, I spy with my little eye a handsome man standing in the hall outside my room. I wasn’t expecting to see him. I’m still in my hospital gown and hooked up to all of the apparatus. I haven’t had the chance to brush my teeth. I can feel that my ponytail is listing a little to the right. I’m not sure I care. Well, maybe I care, but I am powerless to do anything about it.  A few minutes later, I assume he checked on me with the nurses, he sweeps into my room looking Handsome and Perfect. My usual wit and charm escape me. When he asks how I’m doing, I’m honest. He peels back my gown to check my incisions without even making me breakfast…..ok, there it is, it doesn’t escape me that long.  He explains that the surgery went well and that he filled my tissue expanders to 300 cc. He’s happy with the way everything looks, I’m assuming medically speaking. And then he drops the bomb. He tells me that I need to take it easy and rest for the next few weeks. He doesn’t know me at all. Our relationship is in jeopardy. I agree with him without putting up a fight, I’m too sore and tired to be charming and funny. Before he leaves, he tells me to call him if I have any questions or problems. And then he’s gone. I will see him next week and in my dreams between now and them.

Mars calls me and tells me to expect him about 9. He missed having me at home and I missed my morning snuggles. He’ll be off from work for the rest of the week to attend to my every need and I appreciate the effort. Dr. 007 comes in a little while later with Dr. Bow Tie and Pretty Resident. Dr. Bow Tie is a forty-something gentleman of southern Italian descent and Pretty Resident is yet another in Dr. Impossible to See’s stable of residents. She follows 007’s lead. Dr Bow Tie is pretty easy on the eyes. He’s filling in for Dr. Impossible to See who’s not feeling well today. A no-so-giant surprise. They ask me how I feel, if I’m having any problems, and if I think I can go home. I feel ok, I have no problems, and if I could teleport home, they’d be a distant memory. They sign off on my take-home care and they’re on their way.

Yeah, Mars is here for me. I talk to him about the visits from the doctors and we talk about the last day. He seems content and therefore, I’m content. Drs. Impossible to See and Handsome and Perfect assured him that all went well. He’s being strong for me. Day Nurse is back. She helps me to the bathroom and tells me that once I feel like I can change into street clothes, I can call her and she will let me go home. Yippee, I can go home and get some sleep. Mars and I bicker over my ability to get dressed. Just let me do my thing. If it hurts, it’s my fault. It ends up being a chore that is a lesson in patience and love. We make it happen and I call the nurse to let them know I’m good to go….literally. A few minutes later, my wheelchair limo takes me to where Mars parked.

Getting into and out of the car is a chore. The drains are not comfortable. I’m so sore and tired. But I’m home. Home is where Mars is. Home is where my dog is. Home is where I can be at my worst and still feel beautiful. I love home.  I melt into the recliner in a Percocet haze. The next few day are going to be a challenge, but I’m home.

I’m home.