I have put her on the waiting list for another facility, worrying that they won't treat her well where she is moving, before she even gets there. Worrying about where her television will go without her scraping her leg on the corner of the table and causing another wound that festers and takes months to heal. Or, where she's going to put her cosmetics and lotions and toothpaste on the tiny sink they offer her. Or, where her dresser is going to go, and the fit she will throw if after 70 some years she has to have a new dresser.
My chiropractor reminded me this morning as he was piecing me back together, that "worry is a prayer for the worst." Let alone a sleep saboteur.
I know that! But tell that to my racing mind at 3 a.m.
This morning my brother and I were discussing postponing her move. Ben overheard us and said an emphatic, "No." He made his wishes known, watching as he has, my stress.
I feel pins and needles on the soles of my feet in the night as well, making me want to jump up and down on electrodes to stop the feeling. I hope it's just stress.
On Facebook, there was an opportunity to "express myself" about TGIF. There were options you could click on. There was one option showing two fish bowls, one full of water but empty of fish and another one full of water and gold fish. One lone gold fish was jumping through the air out of the bowl full of fish into the bowl full of water, exclaiming, "Get me out of here."
My sentiments exactly, Goldie.