Anxiety

A part of me is dreading the trip next week to Denver. Aside from the anxiety stirring over the surgery, there are other things. Zane and I are going by ourselves, which we’ve done before. It is not easy. The driving part is fine. It’s once we get there. It is just me as responsible party. And I have to lug everything inside the hotel or the Ronald McDonald House while keeping Zane with me: the suitcases, the medical supplies, the Tumbleform chair—all while pushing/pulling Zane along, too. We must make ten trips between the car and the room. Needless to say, a lot gets dropped. If we stay at the Ronald McDonald House, I have to do grocery shopping. Have you ever tried pushing a cart and a wheelchair at the same time? It’s not easy. But that will be us, running into ankles and smashing toes; receiving stares and sympathetic smiles. I know it sounds like I’m complaining. I’m not. Over the past five and half years, I’ve grown used to all that comes with having a child with significant medical needs. I just needed a place to put my waxing anxiety. This seemed like a good place. On a positive note: we're going when the passes are clear and the weather is manageable; I'll have some special time with just Zane, have a little time to work. Maybe we'll even go to the zoo if we can find our way there. Though, I’ll be glad when August arrives and we’re back home. *Fingers and toes crossed for an easy and uncomplicated pre-, post-, and during surgery.*