I never imagined something so innocent could make me cry. (http://www.therapeuticpillows.com/originalheartpillow.htm)
If you have followed this blog, or know me personally you are aware that I have been an emotional wreck. (Spin zone has been entered.) I have barely wrapped my head around all that occured last weekend let alone yesterday. But I know that for all the good that it has done. I hate this pillow. It is about the only thing that Jon can wrap his arms around and squeeze without it hurting. Maybe it’s because I squeeze back.
Jon came home from the hospital Sunday. He finally obtained 90% oxygen saturation while he was off the nasal canula. The fluid in his lungs responded to the treatments that the resperatory therapist had him on. He began moving the float in the lung exerciser to a respectable level. They finally said he could go home.
I will admit that I am scared. I lay there at night and do all that I can do to keep from responding to each and every little burp, belch and moan. I still come off as being a mother hen.
Monday morning, he paniced. A cough was coming on and there was no heart pillow to cough with, he had "bagged" it up into his t-shirt ready for the customer to take it home with them… (It would appear that he dreamt about work.)
I cannot tell you who’s dreams I dislike more. His or mine.
We returned home Sunday afternoon. Everything was right and wll in the Jarrell-Johnson household except there was a week and a half worth of cleaning that needed to be done, and it wasn’t. If a caseworker came by to see the house as to whether or not Jon could come home – I’m not certain they would have even allowed him to enter the city limits. Now on top of it all – the mother in law is in town. I have too much to do, too little time to do anything. Deadline has passed.
Neither are neat freaks. However, if anyone were to be one it would be me… I can live with a junked living area. But given the slightest hint that someone is coming to visit, or stay the night… I go into hyper drive. I have no real explanation for it except – that was how we were raised. I can stash and hide with the best of them. I grew out of it for a time while living by myself in Goldsboro, NC.
I wanted things to be perfect, and easily manageable. I wanted everyone to have little to worry about, and it just isn’t working out that way. If anything my "gotta do" lengthened. And I have no way of shortening it right now. (Insert mad scream here.)