We drove home on the Friday evening. It was a lovely evening but I don’t remember much of the journey; I was sat looking out of the window, looking at everything I have always taken for granted, our beautiful landscape, seeing people running, walking laughing, life going on around me as it had been whilst I was in hospital.
I am not ashamed to say that I envied people with “working” legs. I hated how mine had become, hated seeing what the steroids had made me into, changed my shape completely, and although I was now off them, and they had helped reduce the swelling around the spinal cord, I resented them for this body I was now living in.
Although mum had prepared food for us, what I really wanted was a curry, so we stopped and got an Indian take-away. I was so used to bland (although pleasant) food in hospital; I really wanted something with flavour. We had mums dinner the following day J
Going home was very strange, almost alien like. It felt so odd walking back into the house I had left six weeks previously. My cats were a little apprehensive about me being back and whilst Mark unloaded the car, brought everything in and settled me down, I sat on the sofa and cried again. I don’t know why, emotion just over took me. I was scared about being out of the security of the hospital where everything was safe and done for me if I needed. Now I had to learn to, quite literally, stand on my own two feet.
That night in bed, Mark and I held onto each other; our own peaceful sanctuary, just the two of us. We didn’t have to talk, I don’t know what he was thinking, but I just thanked god I was alive and home again and with a little bit of work, and the help of my surgeon, I had my legs back and that, a start of a new future.
New Legs
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