...

I can't sleep.  

Tossing and turning. Turning and tossing. I lay in bed, trying to get comfortable and it's just not happening.  I'm itchy.  I'm too hot.  I'm not comfortable.  I try a sleep meditation.  It works for maybe 20 minutes when I drift off but I wake up suddenly and the narrator is still talking, telling me to breathe in, breathe out.  I get angry. No, not angry.  I get annoyed.  And at the same time I think I'm excited? How does that make any sense?  

Somehow my brain has come to the conclusion that I'm going to get a phone call, bright and early in the morning, telling me that my Dad is good to go, we can load him into the car and off we go to Florida.  The cardiologist cleared him to be discharged from the rehab facility and also cleared him for travel.  He's still not allowed to drive, but he is cleared to come back to Florida with me.  I am so glad that this is happening because I am more than ready to get home and get back to some normalcy.  Well, as normal as we can get.  The next step is letting all the crazy out for my Dad to see.  I have been giving him inklings of the crazy, and he has seen my temper flare up, telling me to calm down and gently telling me "There's no need for that."  I'm honestly really glad he didn't see my meltdown at the post office a few weeks ago.  I was definitely in a bad space and today I had to take my embarrassed ego back to that post office and forward my Dad's mail. 

The lady was so nice.  She complimented my hair, explained the forwarding procedure, told me it would take a couple of weeks for it to kick in.  They would be holding his mail for that time and I'll be able to pick it up when I come back in a few weeks to grab a few things he wants for his house.  I apologized for my previous meltdown and thanked her once again for being so kind.  The funny thing was, the more I thought about it and apologized for just collapsing on the floor of their lobby and blubbering like a baby, the less embarrassed I was.  It struck me that I had some very real feelings about the situation I was in and that I shouldn't be apologizing for having those very real feelings.  

I have always been told to keep my head down, don't make waves, don't cause trouble.  Even now, while I have to advocate for my Dad (because he doesn't want to trouble anyone, thus not advocate for himself), he tells me that I don't have to bother hunting down a nurse to help him do whatever.  When in reality, I absolutely do have to hunt down that nurse.  I have to advocate for him and sometimes his roommate.  I have to be the voice that he doesn't want to bother anyone with.  I look at my Dad and I tell him "Yeah, hang on, that's imporant.  Let me get someone..." 

I have visited my Dad every single day.  In fact, that is primarily what I do.  We spend every day together.  Usually from about 9:30 in the morning until around 6pm in the evening.  Sometimes, I just hang out with him, keeping him company while he snoozes.  Sometimes, we get out of the facility and go get ice cream.  Sometimes we talk (avoiding politics because it gets us both very cranky) about silly things from the past. Sometimes, he asks me over and over to help him fix something on his computer that he can't remember how to do himself.  We don't need to talk much.  We just exist together in the same space.  I think air is a little cleaner than mine, especially since he's on 3 liters of oxygen.   It has actually been my allergies that have been driving me nuts the past few days. 

But, I still can't sleep.  I am all introspective, thinking about everything under the sun, and while my eyes are incredibly heavy, my brain does not want to cooperate with this whole sleeping thing at all.  

I have everything but a couple of items packed and ready to go.  I have also pulled several shirts and pants for my Dad.  I also have to get his suitcase from the facility, so that will make 3 suitcases total.  I have his tote of important documents that I'm bringing with me and tomorrow my plan is to re-arrange everything in my car to fit his walker, wheelchair, the suitcases, his computer, my computer, a tote filled with things that were already in my car, a small cooler with ice and drinks, and two small canvas bins - one with roadtrip snacks and one with all my toiletries that I don't want to spill.  My car will be well organized, that's for sure!   I plan on cleaning it out tomorrow morning if I don't have to instantly re-tetris everything and start driving.  

Even if I do have to start driving tomorrow, we're going to take things at a leisurely pace. Dad wants to stop at Lookout Mountain and we keep giggling about stopping at the Lodge Cast Iron Museum and getting Kacy a new skillet or something.  I think both Dad and I are really looking forward to her cornbread.  She makes exceptional cornbread.  

WHY CAN'T I GO TO SLEEP?!?!?!

What force in the universe is not allowing my brain to turn off?  Am I forgetting something? I don't think so.  Did I not do something that I was supposed to - well, yeah.  There's tons of things that I've forgotten to do that I was supposed to do.  I can think of one thing right now that I know I can't do until tomorrow morning, but hey - at least I know I forgot to do it?  (I have to give myself credit - I actually left myself a note next to my purse that I absolutely had to do two things before I left the house today, so I'm sure I'll remember to do one of them and then forget the rest.  

Ah, yes... there it is.  The anxiety kicking in.  I think this is what I was waiting for.  It's either that or I really need to shave my legs. If I'm being honest, it probably is a combo of the two, but whatever.  Do I take an anti-anxiety pill at 3am, knowing full well it will totally screw me up in the morning and just accept that or do I say no thank you,  try and power through?   I know myself well enough by now to actually stfu and go get myself some pudding to crush up a pill and take my meds.  Yep.  That is definitely the smart decision.  Bright moons, bitches.