Currently This

It's been seven months since I last wrote in here. There have been a lot of surgeries, a lot of doctors and a lot of bills and I remain as sick as I was when it all started. I'd tell you what was wrong, but I don't know. A dozen doctors, three hospitals and I still don't know because they don't know.

Least I can admit that - I don't know what is wrong.

I can tell you I am close to getting to go home again, after they put a filter in my vein or artery to prevent any more clots from making their way to my lungs. Of the last eight weeks, I have only been home three days. I ache to go home. Home sweet mess. I want to be home with my husband and kids and cats and rabbits and birds and all the noise and fuss and mess. It's my mess. Frustrating as it is to note someone who did not do their chores, if nothing else, it is our mess. It belongs to me. It's normal, all that fuss and noise. But when you have been in the hospital long enough - and on the meds long enough - you get to where you feel, walking into the house, like you're a guest and don't really belong anywhere.

I belong at home. I want to go home.