My One-Eighty

My poor Dan is running himself ragged taking care of me and keeping my meds on schedule. My next dose is at 3:45am and I don't need food with these, so I am on the couch so I can take these on time and he can sleep until 6:15am when it's time for whatever comes next. I'm kind of like a new baby. He's trying to rest when I'm asleep. Problem is, I fall asleep at the drop of a hat and sleeping for an hour helps me. It takes him 20-30 minutes to fall asleep so this is really taking it out of him. My sleep schedule is already completely jacked up, but I have plenty of time to fix it. I'm trying to help him preserve what is left of his so he is ok to go back to work on Monday night.  It's a hard place for me to be in that I know I am such a burden to him right now. When I knocked my glasses case on the floor, I couldn't pick it up. I mean, which is worse right now, squats? Or bending over? So I have to leave it for him. I can't get the tea pitcher off the

I'm getting to that freak out point.  Correction. I have passed the freak out point. I am on edge. I am having trouble getting to sleep and I am crying randomly throughout my day. Surgery is scary. I know, logically, it is minimally invasive, which means it could be worse, but they are still cutting out a chunk of me. Apparently, when they take it out, it can still cause tears in uncomfortable places. I am still going to wake up terrified, in a strange place, without even my wedding ring to ground me.  Next Monday, I will take my Covid test and they will double check my blood type. Next Tuesday, I will drink my decaf tea, water, an occasional 1/2 cup of Welch's White Grape Rose', chicken broth, and a lovely bottle of magnesium citrate. Wednesday morning, time yet TBD, I will show up at the hospital and turn myself over to their care and mercy.  This Friday, Momma and my sister, Shay-Shay, are going to take Daddy to his doctor's appointment and ask his doctor to start th