hubby went to a doctor for pain in his foot yesterday. well. . . that was his extra motivation for the visit. in larger fact, he likes having an established medical network and has yet to establish any for himself in the covidically new neighborhood. we've been here a bit more than 3 years, but so has the covidic madness. is we new or is we ain't. just mask it all without complaint. me? ? ? my last physical was 1995. i ain't much for the sanitized waiting rooms.

around the time i was wondering if i should worry about how long he had been gone, he texted me that the new doc had sent him to a hospital in the nearby metroplex for more heart testing. no big surprise. he developed a heart arrythmia during his near death experiences in 2013/14. the med net in his former local had been watching it closely ever since and were optimistic about his progress when he moved here in 2019.

turns out his blood pressure was through the roof and the arrythmia was back. he agreed to stay the night and submit to a "heart shock" to correct the arrythmia this morning.

when the older two foster kids noticed he was gone (almost immediately on getting off the bus), i told them he was working. i tell myself it is not quite a lie since navigating the sterile waiting rooms is hard work, even for my favorite workaholic. i mostly didn't want to scare them --or myself-- with hospital talk.

i'm rather proud of myself for fielding last night's soccer practice and this morning's school preparations on my own, but the anxieties are escalating. the what-ifs are circling like vultures overhead. my inner doomsayer is taunting, "see. . . i told you that light at the end of the tunnel was yet another fast-moving, NFF train."

ouch. . .