So, here I am again. I made it through the night. Not sure how, but I did. Woke up more often than I usually have been. Once, for a potty break. The other times just because. Because I heard a noise? Because I thought I heard a noise? My mind just won't let the anxiety in my stomach rest, or is it the opposite? I'm not sure. I don't have a therapist here, and I don't mean to bend y'alls ears, just kinda don't like the feeling this anxiety has been giving me. To feel like I'm going to die drains the blood from my face. And feeling the warmth of the blood leave my face feels wrong. Don't get me wrong, I'm not afraid of dying. I'm just not ready to die right now. Of course, I don't have the say as to when that will be. I feel ashamed because I have been talking about me, me, me, and I need to be thinking about my husband. Covid played a dirty trick on him, or maybe getting the covid will actually save his life. Starting with the two blood clots in the lower part of his lungs. Then hearing about the restriction of blood flow around his heart. Now, they did say restriction not obstruction,so I'm hoping that's a good sign. And the fact that when they called, they didn't direct him to the nearest hospital,"do not pass go, do not collect $100,"might also be a fairly good sign. I'm not sure if you want to hear this, but as I'm typing, I am also sobbing. Good thing this is not paper because no one would be able to read it. Who am I kidding, maybe noone wants to read it anyway. Wait, what's my moniker on this site? God is in Control? I better shape up.