I didn’t have any ruby slippers since I only played the Wicked Witch of the West in our 8th grade rendition of the Wizard of Oz. So, I tapped the heels of my Birkenstocks three times while reciting the famous lines “there’s no place like home” and before I knew it, I was home. Well, not quite “home” as in Washington, DC, but at my old off-campus apartment in the Bronx. After 41 days of hospitalization, I was finally free.

I anxiously waited all day Tuesday for the nurse to finally come and tell me I could go home. Of course she did not come until near 8 p.m. I was bummed because I missed the sun, but I still got to go outside. The wait was torturous after I was wheeled down into the lobby. My dad took his sweet time getting the car out of the parking garage which was just across the street. I could feel the fresh air blowing through the revolving doors.

When I finally stepped outside I was greeted by the smell of piss and air much colder than I remember from back in August. And you know what? It was refreshing. I had completely forgotten that the world doesn’t only smell like alcohol swabs and saline drips. I had also completely forgotten that there are louder noises than nurse gossip at 2 am. and old men screaming for help throughout the night. Not only could I feel the wind, but I could hear it. I could still hear some crickets. I could hear cars engines revving and cars coming and going. Being outside for the first time in more than a month I was just so sensitive to every site, sound, and smell.

As much as I hate this crappy apartment filled with disrespectful college students, I loved the sense of familiarity. For the first time in 41 days, I slept through the night. I could sprawl across my full sized bed and my feet for once were not cramped in a too-short-hospital-bed.

Long legs are not all they are cracked up to be. They did NOT fit in my bed.

When I was first admitted to the hospital, I felt like Piper in Orange is the New Black, turning myself in. But I made it out sooner than I thought. I am still waiting for a transplant and my LVAD will help me to be able to wait at home comfortably. I can walk around and wear what I want  (including my vast onesie collection) and I can go to the bathroom without asking permission or waiting for someone to measure my pee. No more bed pans for a while is alright with me.

I am so glad to be free!

Best part of being home is wearing my onesie.