On Halloween, I was released from the hospital. Edward had
transformed the living room into a quasi-hospital room for me since going up
the stairs wasn’t happening anytime soon. He was still working on gaining back
the twenty some odd pounds he lost during my hospital stay. I was working on
building my strength back up. Every day I was getting stronger and stronger,
but the nightmares and flashbacks were also getting more and more powerful. I
couldn’t sleep more than an hour before they would come raging back, sending me
into a funk.
Additionally, the idea of sleeping in the living room pissed
me off. Yes, there was a bed, a real bed, down there but it wasn’t my bedroom. I wanted to sleep in the bed
with Edward. When he wasn’t being a nagging, whiney, simpering man.
God, I sound ungrateful and awful.
In the music room, it had been transformed into a physical
therapy room for me. Edward hired a personal physical therapist to work with me
to help me gain strength in my weakened leg. Again, I hated that he did that.
It was ruining our home.
His home.
He owned this place he could do with it as he chooses.
Yep, still sound
ungrateful.
I had been home for a few weeks and had just finished a
particularly grueling physical therapy session. I was sweating something awful,
panting from exertion. I was very proud, though. I had walked, unassisted,
across the house. My leg was still very weak but I could move around for short
distances. Unfortunately, anything longer than a few feet, I’d have to use the
walker.
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