I haven't been home for almost 2 weeks. I have only been three places in those 2 weeks: The hospital, the Guest House, and last night I visited my sister at her house.
Today, because of a combination of me being sick, and also needing more clothes, I decided it was time to take a trip back home. This was hard, leaving my heart back in the hospital. But I had to go while my mom was there to watch him. It was now, or never.
The ride home was surprisingly fast. I don't know where my mind was, but I swear I just blinked, and we (my sister and I) were turning onto the street of our house.
As we pulled into the driveway, the first thing I noticed was the walnut tree in our front yard. Last I had seen, it was full of leaves, with only a few scattered on the ground around it. Now it is bare and grey, surrounded with a cold air that hints of snow. Funny how fast things change in a few weeks.
Before I am even in the house, I can feel the tears threatening to come out. When I reach the door, I see Mason's dump truck on the porch, and then the tears are rolling. I hurry inside, so glad that my dad has chosen to have the lights off, so that I can sneak by without him seeing.
But I shouldn't have gone in my room. It is full of things that remind me of Mason, and all I can think of is how much he has gone through at such a young age. and what still lies ahead. Every picture he has ever drawn is currently hanging in my room, and I have to stop and remember to breathe.
He's okay, I tell myself. He's going to be fine.
But there was a time when I didn't know that, and for some stupid reason, I let myself remember that fear. How could I have come home to this, if he had died? I would have moved away. I would have gone anywhere. I know it already.
After a few paralyzing moments, those feelings begin to fade, and I am able to take a better look around the room. Someone has moved things. The computer is on, so my brother has been using it again. The room smells like dog, so the dogs have probably been in here, too. This isn't the way I left the room, but I am instantly glad. It allows me to have a sort of detachment as I go about getting my things together. I just can't look at the pictures. Or the toys. Or the books, clothes, and....
My mom calls with good news: Mason has had a bowel movement! I never thought I would be so happy about something like that! They had to give him a milk & molasses enema last week because he hadn't had one, and I had sworn never to let something so traumatizing happen to him again. But they were planning another one for him tomorrow ON HIS BIRTHDAY, if he didn't go today. I was planning to hit anyone who tried, so this news is awesome.
After the call, I am also reminded of the many good things I have in life: doctors, medicine, science, family, friends. Because of these, my son is okay.
...and that's all the matters.