Surviving; not thriving.

How do you go back?

How do you start over?

What happens when you end up back where the route of all your trauma stems from?

But this time, you're not even here for yourself.

You're here for your mom.

She's having surgery today and I volun-told her I and everyone else that I was taking her in.

This is the healthcare that was chosen for me. And this is the healthcare I choose for her.

This is what I know. This is who I trust.

This place.

This place is home.

Or it was home.

The people inside; they know everything about me.

These people fought with me, grew with me, and became better as I did.

As I sit here in the atrium on the third floor starring out the window, I can't help but recall the day that my nurse wheeled me out of the Surgical ICU and brought me outside to the terrace.

I'll never forget the warm sun in my face on a cool day.

The fact that I was "on the inside" for months and this was the first time I was well enough to leave the SICU.

There had been snow on the ground in March when this all started, but when I emerged that day, Spring was in full effect.

As I wait for my momma, I'm humbled by the fact that this really is the best place to be.

This city.

This healthcare.

If it wasn't for living so close to Boston or going to Tufts, I fully believe I would not have survived.

So as for today I'm still surviving.

It's just one day at a time.

Xo ✨