I can isolate myself but my wife is a medical professional on the front lines.
She works in a place that's suffering severe shortages of ordinary supplies like gloves and masks. We've already talked about how we are going to deal with this virus if (or likely when) she's infected.
I'm eating too much because I'm anxious. I never do that.
I think I'm a little PTSD.
More than thirty years ago, after I'd started dating my wife but before we married, we were teachers. I'd caught some nasty virus that turned into pneumonia and I lost a lot of weight, weight I really couldn't afford to lose in the first place. I've always had some borderline eating disorders. This pneumonia turned me into a skeleton man.
My parents brought me home from the hospital and put me up in my sister's old bedroom to look after me. The "pink" room of their three bedroom house.
My parents were also looking after my crazy surviving grandparents. I didn't respect my parents at the time for what they were suffering. They had crazy parents and crazy children to look after. A sandwich generation.
My youngest high school age brother couldn't deal with the crowd and sleeping in the roughly converted garage so he moved in with another sibling who'd run away from home at sixteen.
My grandpa, who was living in the blue "boys" room of the house didn't like my wife. He called her a "Mexican girl." He boycotted our wedding. Men in his white Wild West family simply didn't marry Mexican girls. (He did get past that before he died, but that's another story...)
It was awkward as all heck.
Seems best I can do sometimes is keep breathing.
= new reply since forum marked as read
sometimes it is all we can do.
The situation that we're all in is excruciating, but it won't last forever, even if it feels like it will.
My best to you and your wife!
