Countdown: 6 days until surgery, and I am scared shitless.
What's behind this feeling of terror is one of those things I can't really do anything about; or at least not more than I've already done. What "thing" is that? The time-worn, good-'ol worry about money. God, I hate money. Obviously, it hates me too.
I'm concerned about Tim and what he'll have to carry while I am completely down and out again. Me, I'll be in La La Land for most of it, so that's no big deal. But, he'll have to drive back and forth to Little Rock from Searcy, he'll have to grab food on the go, sleep when he can and basically dive into a not-so-healthy way of life for awhile. I worry that after taking care of so much for over a year now that this will be the straw that breaks the camel's back. If he runs out of money, he just might break.
I've planned as much as I can, put things in place to help as much as I can, like tkomorphoto. I was thrilled, amazed, honored and flummoxed when it seemed to take off right out of the chute. But then, it came to a screeching halt. I have to learn and hone some marketing skills, get the word out somehow. I am so afraid Tim won't have enough money to make it through my hospitalization that this has to happen. Somehow.
But, what good can I be if I can't even bat down the anxiety over what to pack to bring to the hospital? Sad, but true. The more I can't figure out the simple things, the more I feel like that river is going to start spinning a vortex to suck me right down. It's a terrifying feeling.
So, 6 days left to wait... and worry.
