And I’m Out! Back Home, But Boy Does Reality Bite

It’s pretty surreal being back home after my 7th brain surgery, a full week in ICU and then 2 1/2 weeks in acute, inpatient rehabilitation. It was strangely very bittersweet leaving rehab, where I had a very set schedule, was taken care of so wonderfully and most importantly, able to remove myself from reality. As the fantastic ‘90s movie says, “Reality Bites”.

Room With A View

View from my window at inpatient rehabilitation.

When I was initially told I’d be in acute rehab for more than 2 weeks, I had a pure and utter meltdown. I couldn’t imagine being cooped-up for that long without my husband, my dog, my own bed, any semblance of privacy, and on and on. Ugly tears everywhere! So many, many ugly tears

Yet, now that I’m out and back home, I feel completely overwhelmed. Piles of mail sat on my desk. Things weren’t in their “proper place”. (I’m no neat-freak but I’m very Type A when it comes to where things are placed, kept, etc. I don’t know, blame my parents… 🤔🤷🏻‍♀️) I had to make countless follow-up appointments. I had to call the apartment management because yet again, some dirtbag threw their cigarette butt onto our terrace. My darling husband fell for one of the easiest scams ever, and the laptop only I use got hacked. I not-so kindly asked him if I could introduce him to a Nigerian Prince.

Then came the real kicker! I received a letter from a debt collection law firm (the lowest of the low on the attorney food chain) threatening to file suit against ME because the home healthcare agency I was forced to use back in 2018 never paid the company THEY contracted with to give me home PT & OT. ***If you are reading this and are a debt collection attorney, I make no apologies. As an attorney myself, I’d rather chase ambulances***

Well, that of course set up a whole chain of phone calls to my insurance, my family attorney and the law firm threatening suit. Then, I proceeded to look back on all my prior correspondence with the home healthcare agency and the company seeking to sue me because they hadn’t been paid. Finally, I wrote a lengthy email to all parties, copying my attorney, having to “make my case” in writing how I was in no way responsible for this money, threatening to sue the firm for harassment, and underscoring that the Court wouldn’t look too favorably upon some firm trying to make a recovering cancer survivor pay almost $5,000 because their client signed a contract with a less-than reputable home healthcare agency.

So, yeah, reality really f***in’ bites! While I imagined coming home would be so joyous and relaxing, it’s been anything but relaxing. Who leaves the hospital after nearly one month and actually wants to go back???

For anyone who has never seen this movie, you’re missing out!
The good old grungy 1990’s

I know things will settle down, and I’m being a bit dramatic. My fellow patients I met during my stay, who will remain hospitalized for some time would probably kick me for wishing I was back there. However, there’s something very distressing about returning home, no longer just one “call bell” away from help. I was so fortunate to have been in such a top-notch facility. There was always someone to talk to, who understood everything I was going through. Whether it was a social worker, a therapist, a nurse or fellow patient-someone was constantly there to support me. They were right there in the trenches with me, and there wasn’t ANYTHING those nurses, aides, or doctors hadn’t seen or heard before. It was a total judgment free zone.

So, now I’m out. I’m back to the real world. Maybe I just need to chill out on my couch with some friends, puff a lil of my medicinal med not permitted in the hospital, go grab snacks at a gas station and start dancing to some cheesy music. (If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll get the reference)