And it starts at home

In truth, my memories become so vague at this point. Not like a day to day memory. I remember my brother keeping my son another night, so I could relax, become adjusted to being home. But, how could I relax? Nothing at all looked the same.
I want to think that my dad took my bags to the living room, my new makeshift bedroom. I couldn't take my wheelchair in the living room though because of the lip in between, and that it was carpeted. So, that is where I learned to perfect my "furniture walking."  I made it slowly to the couch, my new makeshift bed. Thankfully, there was a chair and the coffee table to help me walk. I remember sitting down on the couch, exhausted. I can say this: my memory is blank. I don't remember seeing my son the next day. I don't remember, really anything. Everything was like, darkness around me; everything so misunderstood and meaningless. For a moment, I wonder looking back, wondering if I even have any beliefs right now. There I was,  hair chopped off, face half drooped. I had pain in every part of my head. I had an extremely slumped arm and leg.