All I can think about on this most auspicious of nights, is “here we go again.”

After a little more than a month in the hospital I’m about to be sent home, the thing I’ve longed for since my admission on June 28 when I thought I was just experiencing a simple visit to the emergency room. Damn was I ever wrong. A herniated disc in my cervical spine was enough to knock me on my ass again, putting me back to square one or even maybe square negative one because when you add mind numbing pain to a mix of already intense MS symptoms things get really complicated really fast.

I spent the first two and a half weeks in an oxy haze. I hated it. I made me think I almost preferred the pain. Almost. Then when I finally got the treatment I should have had immediately, the work began again of trying to recalibrate my baclofen pump to try and get me mobile again. As Dr. Franz likes to say, pump calibration is more art than science and I’m on the verge of heading home and I still can’t be sure if my current setting is where I need to be.

Over the last four weeks it horrified me how quickly I settled in and felt at home here. So many of the same people were here caring for me. They made me feel safe and cared for even as I was falling apart and crying every thirty seconds. I had to go back and read the post I wrote the last time I was a resident of inpatient rehab (link below) and it’s shocking how similar I feel on this night.

Finally: The Story of My Inpatient Rehabilitation

I can’t wait to get home. But I also know that’s just the beginning. I have to somehow get myself up the steps to my front porch (with help, of course) but that doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

Then I’ll have to grapple with the reality that once I’m in the house, I’m pretty much gonna be stuck there for a good long time until I do the work of getting myself back to home-level functioning.

Homecare will begin. I will be doing PT and OT four hours per week. But this time I need to do it more carefully so as not to aggravate my cervical spine injury. My inclination to somehow try to use my neck and shoulders to get my legs moving is not a good thing for a c-spine injury. My tendency to push myself far too hard far too fast will need to be seriously tempered. I need to protect my neck. At all costs.

Because I’ve been here before, I know how I will feel when I finally do make it home. I will feel vulnerable. Afraid. Alone. Sad. Weak. I will wonder if I can ever get down and back up those fucking steps ever again. Will I be able to drive my car ever again. How long will it take before I find another new house that will help me live a better, more independent life? How will I ever leave my beloved home with the majestic tree out front?

I’m going home with a fabulous parting gift this time. My loaner wheelchair. It’s not my personal Quickie Zippy. It’s some other less perfect model but it does the job. I wonder how I’m going to have to rearrange my old, crowded house to allow me to use my chair when I need to, when I’m too weak to walk safely. I wonder if I’ll get used to the chair too easily and just give up walking altogether. I also wonder why that feels like failure to me when I know damn well it’s the opposite.

I’m going back to work on August 14 and I wonder what that’s going to be like, too. We all work from home now, so that’s not an issue. But remembering how to do my actual job after almost 8 months off might possibly be. I’ve never gone that long without working since I was maybe 13 years old?

I wonder if 2020 is just going to continue to be a giant bucket of suck or if this time my comeback will stick. I missed the entire month of July hanging out with my friends in rehab. Caitlyn, Shay, Andy, Paulo, Bri, Rachel…so many people who did everything they could to make me feel less awful, scared and alone. They even got me ice cream! Three times!

We laughed. I cried. A lot. I let my tears fly and accepted hugs and comfort. Caitlyn and I actually did exchange cell phone numbers this time. I mean, I feel like I’m practically related to these people now. I’m gonna miss them almost as much as I hope I never see them again. At least not here. At least not in IPR, as we cool kids call it.

I went through four hospital beds, three hospital rooms and a ton of expensive skincare while I was here. I watched three seasons of Marcella on Netflix, The Night Of on HBO and some random other shows on my DVR. I bonded with Franzi over our mutual love of StarTrek and Men in Black movies. I haven’t read a single word since I’ve been here but reading in the hospital is not easy. I hope to get back into my book when I’m finally home.

Home won’t feel like home right away. I know this from the last time. It will feel foreign and sinister. I will feel trapped. I will cry myself to sleep and do everything I can do to muster the gumption to get out of bed each day knowing how hard this second come back is going to be. I will allow my mom to take care of me while also longing for my lost independence. I will wonder if I’ll ever be happy again. Then I’ll chastise myself for being ungrateful.

It’s all so familiar to me! I never thought I’d say those words. I’m a hospital regular now instead of a bar regular. I don’t even know what to say about that. I’ll probably cry again tomorrow because this round of therapy felt so much more intense than the first round. Saying goodbye to my therapy team who I’ve had such great conversations with over the last month will suck. I will feel like I’m losing friends mostly because with any luck at all I won’t be back here again. At least not for a while.

I will miss my hospital routines. Chocolate mousse Tuesdays. Flowers randomly showing up in my room from the hospital volunteer ladies. Showers with an audience. Teaching nurses how to make beds (yes, I’m talking about you Andy). Reminding Shay to finally remember to get my laundry between running around working her ass off. Talking to Paulo about the similarities between Asian mothers and Italian mothers. Getting the best random hugs from Tyler even when he wasn’t my aide even once this time around. Bonding with Rachael over politics and society discussions and how capitalism is the root of all evil. Enjoying it when Tracy kicked my ass with a sweet smile on her face. Laughing as Bethany read aloud to me from the Fuck That book in an attempt to calm me down after I was told I would be staying around for a little bit longer and she could see me about to lose it right there in the therapy steps from hell.

I’ll miss the random fellow patients who were so crazy encouraging. “You’re doing so well.” An older woman said this to me today and I kind of chuckled and said, I wish I felt that way. “Well I remember seeing you when you first got here and you could barely stand up. You should give yourself credit.” And I wanted to hug her. I’ll miss Ray, and surly Mark, and the new guy who talked to me about how many times he thought he’d found the one only to realize it was just another one. We all encourage each other here because we need each other. We are all we have in these weird times where visitors are limited.

Tomorrow I go home. It all begins again. I hope I have it in me to do this recovery thing again. I hope my home care team can motivate me to get back at it. I hope I don’t go all dark and twisty when I realize how hard it’s going to be.

At least I can do all of it with Fred snuggling with me at night. Damn I miss that old cat. I hope he hasn’t forgotten me.