Well I've finally gotten done with my 3rd brain surgery (Hopefully my last, though somehow, I don't really want to have to hold my breath on that one. I may not make it). It actually didn't even feel like a surgery at all. Besides the fact that I was ready to go in to get it done 2 weeks prior, it just felt as basic as breathing this time. I've been through it all before: the pre-surgery tension, the stresses, the what-fors and why-nots and finally the acceptance, but this time it was just less. So much less that I almost forgot that I had a major operation. I just wanted to escape the hospital under the cover of night and get back to...something else. I don't know what that else that would be right now, though. This has been all I've been dealing with for the last year. Therefore, I didn't escape the hospital.
I just stayed, but I did walk out. Out of the Johns-Hopkins Neuro Critical Care Unit, the step up from ICU, I walked. Three surgeries down, 1 year, bring it. I don't mean to sound self-absorbed here, but I was very proud to be slowly shuffling my dizzy feet down the hall out of the hospital that day. I felt like I wasn't back at the beginning where all of my fears lie as I've been worried. I was here, now with my whole future in front of me. It felt good.
So here's a picture of me when I finally got back to my room at the best of westerns. It ain't pretty but dammit, it's me.
