Yes, I’m home. They didn’t bother with the second x-ray this morning, since the last one looked good and the doc noticed I slept on a flat bed last night.
It took surprisingly little time to get me out of there. I expected red tape to hurt as much as surgical tape, but nope! I was home by 11:30 this morning. Everything was the same, except eight days later.
The calendars lie. The TV lies. My inner clock shrugs at me.
This convalescence is going to take a while.
excerpt from Almost Home by Mary Chapin Carpenter<br/> <br/> But there’s no such thing as no regrets<br/> And baby it’s alright<br/> I’m not running<br/> I’m not hiding<br/> I’m not reaching<br/> I’m just resting in the arms of the great wide open<br/> Gonna pull my soul in<br/> And I’m almost home