When I left the hosptial it was on my own two feet. Ok, four if you count the walker. I was so proud of myself. My husband tried to put me in a wheelchair except that I couldn't bend my leg. So it was on my own power that I walked out. Still, it was cool.
I spent the following week with my sister at a friend's house in New Jersey. She worked me hard that week. But I will save that for another blog. The doctor sent me home with Jackson Pratt Drain Tubes. I gather this speads up the wound healing and staves off infection. I really didn't know what they were talking about before the surgery. I read the booklet. I looked at it online. They told me I could have up to two tubes. OK, that was fine with me. Just get this tumor out of me.
I am now in week three. They just removed one tube. I am finally home. The problem is the other tube. The problem isn't that it is inserted just above the back of my knee. No, that one is obvious. The problem is that I look like Frankenstein. I have tubes sewn into my body. Tubes with liquid going through. Gross. It takes some getting used to - and the big black stitches up the back of my leg don't help.
Just call me Frankenmom.