17. And a day later I am let out on my own recognisance

I don't wanna brag, but I crushed walking to the bathroom by myself, as well as the basic other things one needs to check off the list in order to go home.  My pain is still centered mostly on the left side ,and I realize it's where the drain is inserted. My cousin, who had the same surgery a few years ago, warned me of this.

The drains will hurt the most, she said. And she is not wrong. 

We are told I will be discharged in the coming hours. The doctors check in on my progress and, for the first time, I catch a glimpse of the suctures that go across my breasts where the nipples once were, and the concave nature of what was my bosom. What I can see looks an awful lot like some of my google searches. Frankly, I will have time to take fully in what my new body looks like in the coming weeks, and I'd prefer not to rush it right now. Admittedly, I am scared but I also just want to prioritize getting home and healing enough to get the drains out.  Checking out my scars can wait. Because, and should I explain again? The drains SUCK!!!

The pharmacist comes to my recovery room to give me my meds, and we pay for them right there with a credit card. This delivery service is really smart, because in the midst of gathering yourself and your belongings and trying to get it to the car to get home, having to stop at a pharmacy as well is the last thing you want.  This way is simple, plus everything you need to know about the drugs is answered on the spot. The pharmacist leaves, Collin sets off to get the car and I wait for my "ride" aka my wheelchair, to take me to meet him at valet. 

As the car rolls up, I am extremely thankful that we have an SUV,  as stepping up into the car is easier than crouching down. The drive home is relatively uneventful, and our friend Richard has graciously offered to meet us at the house to help get all the bags and me in. (My husband intends to follow the rules to the letter, which means I don't walk without someone behind me who can catch me if I trip).

We get inside. one, how I've missed you these last two days. There's some small talk for a minute and then the wave of tired hits again. I retire to the bedroom. With pillows propped up against the headboard, I fall into yet another drug induced slumber.

We've made it through the first goal marker.

I am alive and home. And that I will celebrate, some day, after I wake up.

i almost look like Sleeping Beauty except for the whole animated, blond haired thing. Okay so maybe not.