I did not samba in the parking lot when I left the hospital yesterday afternoon. In my mind, I pictured myself joining the roda. That celebration will come in time; perhaps after these first two weeks of being Vac-free. But my good news wasn’t real until I saw my daughter. The look on her face was one of genuine joy, hope, and gratitude. Our hug was one of homecoming.
After 44 days, I’m no longer attached to Mr. Backpack. I will be slowly resuming my normal routine. I will return to work Monday. I’m still restricted from exercise: half-marathon training and SambaFunk classes are on hold until the doctor sees more progress in my healing. My wound is not closed but is 1.5 centimeters close. The surrounding skin, sore and blistered from weeks of adhesive tape and air-tight sealants, will need to heal. As for the cosmetic healing, that will be a longer process, six months or more and one I choose not to ponder for now.
Strangely enough, after the Wound-Vac was turned off, I felt exhausted and experienced a level of pain I hadn’t felt in weeks. I didn’t let it intimidate me. It is my body’s turn to take over the healing process. I will continue to take my recovery one day and one moment at a time. Lots of bear hugs won’t hurt.