home | hõm |
noun

1 the place where one lives permanently, esp. as a member of a family or household.

I've learned from spending so much time in hospital that when one is suffering from a disease that needs daily monitoring that the hospital becomes one's home. The nurses become family and the doctor becomes my surrogate comfort person.

I'm getting better after suffering from Idiopathic TTP (Thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura) I didn't feel comfortable to name the disease I've been suffering from on my blog before as I was afraid of horror stories or that it would jinx me getting better. But I'm getting better, thank my positive thinking for getting better.

Physically that is, mentally I'm still quite a mess.

When my doctor told me last Friday that I should come back next friday for my last Mabthera treatment, I panicked ... a week not going to the hospital, A WHOLE WEEK ... are you mad?

I have to let go.

Now this is the hard part as I don't see my own home as home right now. The hospital is my home and if I have to think of anyone holding my hand when they'll remove my catheter, it will be my doctor. Home provides safety and the place where I feel safe is the hospital right now. I bet there are a lot of people who understand this.

So that's my next task; finding home again.

I've made a little collage of what resembles home to me by putting some items together.

The painting of the mother and child used to hang in my parents bedroom. When I was little I'd stare at it for hours. I felt so related to that child, as my mother is black and my father is white. It's comforting and safe. The rusty Y was a gift from Marné and for some reason, I can't explain, I feel very attached to this letter. Books are important to me, lots of books. I sometimes joke and say that our house will be burned down in no time as it carries so many books. And the pink hare was a gift from a friend and resembles friendship in general. Friendship has been so important to me while I was in hospital. In times like this I've learned that the people who undergo a 2 hour drive to sit with you, tell you that you should shave your legs and laugh at you because you can't speak properly anymore are the best people in the world - and sod the rest!!

I'll be fine.