Back home

Three days after I entered in a wheelchair, I walked out of the hospital with fresh clothes. Surprisingly, when I started to leave, I was a little reluctant to go. After all, I didn’t know how to take care of myself, the nurses had been doing it all for me. But, my parents were firm, and they told me that we would learn quickly, and that they would help. 

My first steps back home were dreamlike. Even though everything changed, everything was still the same. The door to the garage creaked in just the same way, the natural light filtered into the kitchen as it always had for every morning I came to pour myself some cereal. It felt wrong, and even though it was an exact picture of what it had always been. I felt like I had fundamentally changed, but it hadn’t changed with me. I was an alien in what was supposed to be my home. When I collapsed in my bed that night, I thought of all the other memories I had in that bed, memories of daydreaming about superpowers, thinking about my crushes, planning the perfect day. In hindsight, I was being dramatic. Even now, I still daydream about superpowers, think about my crushes, and plan the perfect day most nights, albeit since then I’ve outgrown my old twin bed. But, I didn’t know better. I had never had a real upset in my life before, and I felt like the blinds to my life had closed, and I was stumbling in the dark. I needed to find the lift string.

And slowly, my family helped me find my way. They taught me how to prick my finger and carefully “milk” the blood out (which I’ve always thought is a disgusting term for that action, but that’s beside the point). They reminded me to inject insulin with the purple pen every night, and green before meals. I consistently tested above 200, and my parents would tell me that it was way too high, and I didn’t have any frame of reference for it, but I believed them. I didn’t know what it meant, I didn’t know what I had done wrong, I just knew it was bad. Sometimes I apologized to them for having a high blood sugar, and I didn’t know why.