Headed Home

My days were counting down...my therapies were getting better...I was walking with a walker, I was doing most tasks on my own. I'd still use my wheelchair away from physical therapy. Mostly, I'd be worn out. Kristen worked me hard, lol.
Laurie Ann, my speech therapist, worked on my memory. She had alot of trouble with that, as my short term memory was near non-existant. My mom still came everyday, with me to my therapies.
Closer to one of the Wednesdays, when my rehab DR would meet with all of the therapists, he got the idea that I may have problems once I got home. Mainly, the problems with drinking would return and that I might go back to my boyfriend.
My mom shared the same fears, and expressed those fears to the DR. They agreed that maybe a rehabilitation nursing home would be good for me. So, while on the phone with my boyfriend, a lady walked in from some nursing home, I don't remember her name.
I got off the phone, and watched her as she approached me. She explained where she was from, and that she'd love it if I would come down and view the facility. She also told me it'd be a great place for me to continue my therapies, in a safe and enjoyable atmosphere. I can't explain how mad I was at even the thought of me going to a nursing home! I yelled at her, telling her there was no way I was staying at a place that I knew had old people staying there! I just wanted to go home! To stay with my family! To me, I'd learned the mistakes that caused all of this....mostly, I WANTED TO GO HOME!
For a moment, I had a suspition as to who set this up. My mother. So, I called her, angry at the idea of wanting me to go to a nursing home! In my own madness, I explained to her that I learned what stupid things I'd done, that it was over, I wasnt going back to those ways! Ok, so I was furious at the thought.
For a few minutes, we argued over the idea of me going to this "home". To the point, she worried about me coming home. She, in some words, tried to explain her fears of me going back to my boyfriend, of drinking, of screwing my life up again. When I continually tried to get my point across, that my drinking days were done, that I just wanted to come home, she cried some more and hung up on me. For the first time that I can remember, my mom hung up on me.
I guess, no visits tonight from her. How could I show my mom that I was done with the alcohol? It nearly ruined my life. Hell, it nearly killed me! The weeks I spent getting my legs to work again.  The weeks I spent learning to brush my teeth, to work on seeing right again, being fed with a feeding tube, dealing with the shaved head, the pain and headaches from my surgeries...and she worried I'd go back to alcohol!!! There was only one thing I had to say: WHAT THE HELL!?!I did have one visitor that evening. Pastor Tom, a pastor at our local church. The pastor that continually prayed over me throughout  all of my surgeries, through the rehab, through it all. He gave my mom the money for gas, to come and see me. Looking into his face, there were no smiles, no reassuring looks. He only had the look of being upset."Elicia," he started talking. I sat on my bed, turned the television off. I sat there, waiting for him to say the next words. I didnt know what they'd be, but it seemed it wasnt going to be nice. "I've witnessed you going through so much these past few weeks. Seems you want to go home soon, to your mom's home." I sat there waiting for more. "But you're mom is panicking, she doesnt know where to go from at this point. She is struggling on what to believe from you, even with what you've dealt with so far.""Can I speak Tom?" I asked, with somewhat of an attitude. "Sure" he said."I've learned, these last few weeks. I cant explain all that I've learned, but I know there's a reason I'm here still. I know that God has a plan for me. I don't know what that plan is, but I want to learn more. The drinking is done, I can't explain how done it is." I start crying at that point. "I just want to go home. I mean, how do I show my mom that I have changed? How??" I was sobbing by that pont. Pastor Tom didnt move, his facial expression didnt change. "Elicia, you need to do some major changes. You need to find a way to absolutely show her that you mean what you're saying to me. You only have one shot, one chance."Pastor Tom gave me a hug, then said prayers over my head. I spent the rest of the evening thinking about what he said. My mom never called back to apologize for hanging up on me. I understand why she didnt. I, in my own way, knew why she was so scared. I remembered who I was before the fall. Cruel, drunk constantly, abused and never doing anything about it. Feeling that somehow I deserved the abuse, but never knowing why. I hurt over all of this, but I could never imagine how hurt my mom felt all these years.
I got my evening meds and fell asleep, all the while dreaming about what I was going to do.