Even though it hurt like Hell.

I was so mad at myself! Why!?? Why did I go up that hill? Why didn't I slow down? I shouldn't have even forced my dad into going. Look what I've done to myself, look what I've done to my parents. My father was broken. He was so broken. A man who cried my entire life up until this point maybe twice that I'd seen a single tear run down his cheek. Now, held my hand creating a flesh tissue for his tears. He spoke to God like he was pleading for mercy. He needed me back to myself and I couldn't bring myself to get there. What did I do? I was so pissed off, I was so mad. I screamed so hard I shook like a 2 year old who was having a tantrum. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry Daddy..I.." "No, this is not your fault! I am so sorry that you have to go through this and believe me baby if I could take this away any part of it. I would" "I know you would Dad. I know, I.." "I've talked to my Dad so many times, my Grandma and Grandpa and my aunt asking them if they could hear me to please do something to help. For them to just help me..." We sat there hugging each other. Holding each others hands so tight our skin was turning white where the blood was unable to flow. Weeping so hard all you could hear was sighs and feel jolts of our body's from our lungs contracting for air. He blamed himself just the way I had blamed myself. The next day, I was to try this medication called "go lytely"(to get my bowel discomfort from my last meal out of me) otherwise known as the new type of punishment that should be given to all criminals. It was a super laxative that tasted like gym water from a 1910 fountain with a dirty gym sock saturated in a puberty stricken adolescent sweat. It gagged me to where I was either going to throw up my bowel obstruction, or poop out my previous air intake. My parents went back and forth on how it wasn't that bad, so you know what? I made them try it! They both spit it out and gave award winning warm beer faces. Not that bad eh? Noted. The time came, it was time to try oral pill intake to try and get me home. Surprisingly this try seemed to work. It wasn't smooth by any means but I was able to remain comfortable, which the next day landed me home. We had to have home health nurses come to our house and help us with my PICC line and help us learn the pump that would be administering my TPN(liquid nutrition aka food). My parents were instructed to flush my line with saline a few times a day and to keep me on the TPN at night until it was time for me to come back and have the surgery. Watching them put on gloves and come at me with a syringe full of liquid going directly to my heart was not the most comforting thing!! Fearful yet strangely proud we set up for my first home meal via PICC. I got up every 2 hours to go to the bathroom. My mom stayed with me every night on the couch picking up the machine that in the dark looked like she was walking me on a leash like you would a small dog as my IV line fell behind me and she carefully held it up like you would and brides train to her dress. Waking her up out of her slumber was hilarious most nights, I even threw my socks at her to try and wake her up to help me to the bathroom. Laughing with her was always the best even though it hurt like hell. It wasn't easy, it was not stressless, we were not rested but we were home. Still, this wasn't over.