Day +25 |2-12-17|We're Home!

We're home! I have been thinking about this post for quite some time. I haven't been able to fully sort out my feelings though, and I didn't want to just put a post up that said, "Good morning! We're home. The end." Although, in retrospect, I probably should have, if only to keep everyone updated. To be honest, I just haven't been feeling like writing. That's unusual for me, but if there's one thing for certain, it's my unusualness. I think about writing all of the time, I think about all of the things that I want to say, but when it came down to actually doing it, I just didn't have the motivation.

We have been home for over a week now, and it's been so great to sleep in our own bed. The strangest part for me, these last couple weeks is that although I'm beyond happy to be home, I've felt let down.  It's like when you have so much anticipation for something, and then it isn't as great as you had imagined it would be. (A problem I've had my entire life...I had completely convinced myself one year that I was getting a horse for my birthday. I didn't get a horse...no one knew I was expecting a horse, even) It wasn't being home that was a let down for me, it was just this whole thing. For the past 7 months we had this goal: Stem Cell Transplant. That was all I focused on in between rounds of chemo, doctor appointments, scans, radiation, many miles back and forth to KC. I was going through all of these things with the golden ticket promise of life will get back to normal after the transplant. And then we were home! I felt like I should celebrate! We were on the other side of the transplant! But I didn't feel like celebrating. I was SO happy, don't get me wrong. I was relieved to have made it this far. But I never took the time to think about life immediately after transplant. The first 100 days when he is still restricted from doing so much, which in turns feels like we're all still restricted from getting back to normal. You'd think after feeling like our lives were on hold, and rolling with all of the punches for over a year, that the next 3 months would feel like a cakewalk, right? I just couldn't shake the blues I was feeling. I missed the friends I had made at HL. I missed being surrounded by people who got it. They were in the same boat as us, and some days, they felt like the warmest sun in my cloudy day. I had a hard time transitioning back into the roll of caretaker of all things, not just Mike. I was thinking, "geez, Robin, get a grip, you were only gone for 3 weeks."

Things have gotten better for me, these past couple days, though. I'm done having a pity party. I'm done being sad about all the things. They've gotten better for Mike, too. He kept saying that he wasn't going to get better until he was home, in his safe place. And by "home", I mostly mean "his recliner". He was getting discouraged that he wasn't feeling much better the first week. He didn't get out of his chair much. His labs weren't rebounding as quick as he was hoping. He was (and still is) so nervous about getting sick from one of the kids.

Germs, coughs, sneezes... I feel like all of these perceived evils have broke into our home and are holding us hostage. The kids are constantly being told to wash their hands. Mike is constantly on guard, side eyeing anyone who coughs from across the room. I miss hugging him. Holding his hand. Anything that resembles closeness. We can't both keep our distance from the kids, though, so, since I snuggle the kids, kiss them, hug them, I am considered contaminated, by proxy. I want all 5 of us to be in the same bubble again, not Mike in his own bubble. Close to us, but just out of reach. This is the "normal" part of life I can't wait to get back to.

As I say these things, I am overcome with guilt. Guilt that I don't sound like I'm appreciating the fact that we have made it as far as we have. It's there, though. In the back of my mind (slowly, I'm forcing it to the front). Mike is still here. We've been given a chance to get back to normal. I'm practicing patience. And kindness. I feel guilty for complaining because I have a friend who recently lost her husband suddenly. He was only 35. Their son, almost the same age as Reid. I feel like I can't breathe when I think about her. Last June, Mike was much sicker than I probably wanted to believe. He didn't think he was going to survive, and I sat in the hospital with him, trying to figure out how I would be able to live without him. I don't know how we crawled out of those dark days, but we did, and now I'm here, hoping my husband will be cured, and my friend is living the life that I thought I was destined for. It doesn't feel fair.

On top of all of the things, thoughts, feelings I've been wrestling with, we received the news today that another friend, although older, and in a different stage of life, has passed away after several years of battling cancer. She was the sweetest woman, and her family will miss her dearly.

In a more appreciative manner, I have to brag on our Jefferson County North family. Molly's teacher, Kelly Jobbins, called a couple weeks ago about a project they wanted to start. Her and the other Kindergarten teacher, Ruth McFarland, made the effort to start a campaign to collect donations for the Hope Lodge. What started out as a kindergarten project turned into an entire school project! The sum of donations blew my mind when I saw them at the school. The Oskaloosa newspaper even had a front page article on the project. Molly and Lucy were in the photograph along with some of their friends: Brooklyn, Madisyn, Sawyer, and Dylan. We feel so fortunate to be welcomed into this school district, and loved on so hard, by so many of the families. Our sincerest Thank You to everyone who has made our lives easier, and our hearts full.

Oh, and although I did a lot of whining in today's post, I want it on record, that I'm still not whining about cooking & doing dishes in my own kitchen. At the end of the day, there really is no place like home!

Xoxo

Robin