It’s been just over a week since I came home, and I’m happy to report that I’m still here and that it’s still pretty much the best (and that I took down the stray Christmas decorations that my husband had left up since last year).
Though I was feeling pretty darn good about leaving the hospital, I was also a little anxious—in part because it was/is such a huge change after spending a very, very long time in a medical unit, and in part because people kept asking me if I was nervous and then telling me that it would feel weird to be home and that if I did happen to be experiencing extreme anxiety about leaving the hospital and getting used to the outside world, it would be totally normal and I shouldn’t worry about it.
Despite the intense anxiety that these warnings roused up in me—a lot of it anxiety about not feeling more anxious than I was (what was wrong with me)—I honestly don’t think that this transition could’ve realistically gone better than it has. There’s been the odd thing here and there, but it’s been an overwhelmingly smooth and positive process. I’ve only had two seizures since I’ve been discharged, my postictal psychosis remains completely controlled, which has been truly life-altering, and I’ve been following my meal plan and discovering new foods. I’ve reconnected (in a pandemic-appropriate manner) with several friends, restarted a volunteer activity that’s really meaningful to me, and done a ton of organizing (including putting all my hospital LEGO away—no small task!), but I’ve also been good about getting lots of sleep—probably twice as much as I was in the hospital—and resting throughout the day. As I discussed with my neuropsychiatrist on Friday, if I push myself too hard, I’ll inevitably reenter the frequent-seizures-leading-to-near-constant-psychosis cycle, which would, in turn, bring me back to square one and cause me not to be able to do any real-life stuff at all. Tough as it is to rein in my inclination to make up for “lost” time and fill every minute of every day with “productive” tasks, it’s important I maintain balance. (He told me, in fact, that he thinks that the key to my overall health hinges on seizure management. I agree. More motivation to schedule a daily afternoon nap.)
I could go on, and on, about the last week, and I’m tempted to do so. It’s Sunday, though, and I’d rather bake something keto-appropriate, plan my next knitting project, and hang out on the back deck with my husband, who’s been an amazing ally through all this. I’ll forgive him a dusty Christmas garland or two.