O. K., so after almost 72 hours of morphine injections, a pierced tongue with a stylin' string hangin' out of my mouth that was taped to my cheek, crusted mucus and other unmentionable things sticking to my skin and hair, caged in a pen built to contain wild animals (What, do they think I need containment or something?), being constantly poked and prodded by nurses and doctors every 15 minutes or so for almost four days, clamped with stiff-arm "no-no's" (which I figured out how to break free of with Houdini-like finesse), eating virtually nothing but piped-in liquid through a tube drilled into the top of my hand, and feeling a burning sensation at the roof of my mouth that only seemed to flame hotter every time I coughed, can you really blame me for wanting to go home? My greatest comforts were the various shifts my Mama and Baba took to sit by my jailhouse, visits from my big brother Barret, and the fun of being wheeled around the hospital ward in a wagon with my JieJie, Poppy. The nurses were really nice to me, and often times felt like angels from on high.
The news I had longed for finally came on Saturday morning when the nurses and doctors told my Dad that I could go home that afternoon. Right about the time that good news came I could feel the pangs in my stomach hankering for some food, especially when I spotted that banana my Dad tried to sneak into the room and eat without me ever noticing, as if I were born yesterday or something. He was nice to give me some mushed up Jello through a syringe, and even some pureed scrambled eggs, but what I really wanted was to munch down on something with my teeth. I'm told I won't be able to do that for weeks.
When I finally got home that afternoon I was pretty puckered out, so I crashed with my Mama on the bed. I guess she was pretty pooped too. I'm just glad to be home. My mouth is still pretty sore, so my Mom and Dad give me Tylenol with Codine about every four hours or so. That also makes me a little groggy, but I'm doing my best to fight it hard and get back to my usual busy self, exploring everything I can get my hands onto and generally frightening my Mom and Dad to death with my dare devil feats of toddler-hood.
It's good to be alive, generally healthy and progressing toward my next phase of life where I'll finally be able to say intelligible things to people that actually make sense. I'm told that having the right "equipment" makes all the difference in the world. Thank you for praying for me, for taking good care of my family, and for genuinely caring about my well being.
I love you and 'duoxie' ("thank-you very much"),
Xuan Xuan (Willow Rae)
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