Before I continue with this post, I have a disclaimer: This topic will be broken down into a number of articles over a number of weeks. It involves gruesome details of surgical procedures and will be brutally honest from my point of view. I am writing these in real-time. At present, we are in the hospital. Mark is just 120 hours post-op and is gearing up for another busy day of Physical Therapy. I am making a point to write these now so that we can share our story in its entirety. This is not to promote anything other than hope.

Today is the Day! Well, it will (hopefully) be the day. We are going home! I am starting to get cabin fever and that is even with getting out of here for a few hours a day to run home and shower.

Overall, the doctors are very please with his healing process and his progress in his therapy. Despite the Night of Terror, they have no concerns to send him home with the slight exception of the lack of bowel movement. If I were a betting woman, I’d bargain that is because of a comfort thing. Toddlers, right?

Mark managed to work through a very tough and difficult day of physical therapy. He is extremely unsteady and watching him is almost like watching him learning to walk all over again. Nonetheless, he managed to do it and impressed the entire nursing staff and all of his friends on the floor.

Shortly after Physical Therapy, we did one more dressing change and we were homeward bound. Mark had never been so happy to get out. He was climbing on the bed, pulling himself up on the rails, and playing with his trains. I wonder if he was screaming louder to go say bye to his friends in the hall, or to go home, either way, we left and we didn’t look back.