Culture Shock

This morning we had an opportunity to bring Meaghan home for a few hours on a day pass. We waited until the last minute to tell the children.

I wish I could say it was something out of Norman Rockwell, but it wasn't. It was awkward and overwhelming for everyone, especially Meg. Madison and Ethan were so excited to have her home that they just kept peppering her with questions. (Meg now has a handy "Yes/No" chart which facilitates communication.)

Meg appeared to be in shock. In the couple of days since she's seen me I've completely shorn my hair, the house is decorated for Christmas, the stinky dogs were licking her up and down, her siblings treated her like royalty... The world was spun on it's ear.

Meaghan was easily frustrated by her lack of mobility. We visited every room in the house. She'd briefly show interest in something, then become irritated again. The kids wanted to play and interact with her, she just wanted to observe. I wanted to take some photos, but she put her hand in front of her face and yelled. She did seem to enjoy her walk around the neighborhood, though.

She was home for a total of four hours. Going back to the hospital was torture. I didn't want to leave the kids or home. I cried. It was awful. We all want her home, but it's not what we thought it would be. At the hospital we can tend to her fully, without distraction. Home is a string of distractions. Here, everyone expects her to tow her share of the line. Home, she is doted on. Here, she is tethered by an IV pole. Home, she isn't.

She's a woman without a country. And I feel for her. It was a small dose of reality for all of us. Bittersweet.