Sorry…I haven’t posted in a few days. I tested positive for Covid on Wednesday and haven’t been feeling well. I’m grateful that on the “Covid scale” I have a relatively mild case and am confident I’ll be just fine, but feeling physically sick is not at all good for my mental health. Nobody wants to read posts with me just feeling whiney and sorry for myself.
This morning as I was feeling frustrated with my sore throat and making myself yet another cup of tea, I was remembering how Jason dealt with cancer with such grace and a positive attitude right up until the end. Honestly, if our places would have been reversed and I would have heard “terminal brain cancer” I would have curled up in a ball and given up right then. I probably would have spent my last days in deep depression. Not Jason. He just took my hand and looked at Dr. Neil and kept saying “what can we do next?” I miss him so much I don’t know if the pain in my chest is my broken heart, a huge gaping hole inside, or Covid…maybe a combination of all three…it just hurts.
One day this week when I was quarantined in my room reading I looked at the time. It was 4:20…and I actually thought to myself for a brief second “oh good…Jason should be getting home from work soon”…and then my next though was “oh yeah FML”. This being a widow gig sucks.
I have had two faithful companions this week who have no qualms about sticking to me like velcro. They drive me crazy and keep me going all at the same time….just like the human children