Here’s the nut:
I can’t take much more of this. Two weeks to go, and I’m at the end of my rope. I can’t work. I can eat, but mostly standing up. I’m anxious all the time and taking it out on my ex-wife, which, ironically, I’m finding enjoyable. This is like waiting for the results of a biopsy. Actually, it’s worse. Biopsies only take a few days, maybe a week at the most, and if the biopsy comes back positive, there’s still a potential cure. With this, there’s no cure. The result is final. Like death.
Misery loves company. Read the rest here.
Of course I thought of you when I read that! I’m glad you saw it. Does that make you feel less alone?
Oh, Barb,
If there’s one thing a Neurotic Democrat does NOT feel these days, it’s alone. I feel like I’m absolutely sympatico with roughly 6 or so billion people around the globe.
-ND