I look around and assess what I need to do, and getting the house ready to put on the market just looks so overwhelming and discouraging. My life has been filled with "firsts" since my husband died, and this will be the first time I have prepped a house for sale without him. We bought and sold - let me think - four houses during our married life, and moved in and out of a few apartments as well. I am no stranger to the process, I'm really good at this. But, damn, when I think about the long list of things that need to be tackled before the sign goes into the yard, and the next long list of things that will accompany actually moving, it's exhausting to contemplate. I am breaking it down to small steps and making lists, but...damn.
Then there is the issue of dealing with my elderly mother. I can't skip off to MD or NC and leave her sitting in that stupid damn house in BFE, Florida, freaking out over everything and refusing to take her blood pressure meds because she read the warnings on the label and developed every reaction symptom just by reading them. This is not out of a sense of guilt but a recognition of responsibility - like it or not, I'm the one who is deemed responsible for her, and I don't want to have to slog a thousand miles to deal with her. But I also can't/won't live with her. And she has a house full of stuff that she can't bear to part with, so even if she agreed to move to some nice senior apartment with transportation and such, it would be hell to accomplish it. The thought of dealing with THAT situation is very stressful. But the only thing worse than dealing with it is the thought of sitting on my ass here for the rest of her life, because she most likely has another 10 years in her. I know it sounds terrible, but she feels like a concrete block tied around my neck.
Boy, that sounds so cheery and positive, doesn't it?
On the plus side, I am ALIVE and feeling just fine. Honestly, at this point the SAH is fading into "Did that really happen?" in my mind, only the stubble and scar on my head are proof that it did. The scar is just a white line where there is no hair at this point, it doesn't look very impressive at all. The stubble is growing in, and boy, is it gray. Otherwise I feel boringly normal.
The scalp numbness is the most annoying remnant of this misadventure. I need to ask Dr. SL if the weird feeling on my scalp is going to go away in time, because it is SO strange to brush my hair and feel like half my head has had a shot of Novocain. I'm hoping that isn't permanent - I mean, obviously I can live with it, it's not a big deal, but it's just so...weird.
I got in touch with my former boss T, who had a similar-but-different brain thing (and what are the odds of that?). Though she did not have to have a craniotomy to fix hers and it was treated with focused radiation to shrink the offending blood vessels, and hers happened some months ago, it sounds like she went through a rougher time than I did and has had more residual issues. It's all about where the bad thing is in the brain - apparently mine happened in a part I don't use. ;-)
So, the plan for April is work on the house and work on me. Let no garbage day pass without a pile of mystery junk at the curb! I will be on a first name basis with the guys at Goodwill. My son will come down and help me clean out the garage and get ready for a garage sale.
My gym membership has been on hold for months because work craziness kept me away, but I'm going to re-activate it this week. I miss the weight machines. I'll have to start over at the "My dog weighs more than this," settings on the machines, but it will feel good. And it's the start of the next phase of Runagogo, or in my case, Walkagogo. I've spent the 3 weeks since I got out of the hospital warming the couch and watching game shows, but now it's time to get serious about getting better and getting ready for the future. Doesn't that sound brave and positive? Boy, I'm something, aren't I? Actually, I just want to go back to bed and wake up already moved and settled somewhere else, because getting there is going to be a bitch.
Edited to add: I must remind myself of a significant benefit of moving: not having to hear the words "Gator Nation" over and over on every news broadcast.