So, one of my honorary aunts died last night, and this morning was pretty rough. Regardless of my emotional state, I had to drive Justin to Burlington for a neck treatment — a steroid injection, took 10 minutes, no big deal, really. But a needle in the neck. And so I’m sitting there in the waiting room, looking at Facebook and reading Rockford’s news stories about Dorothy and the accident and wondering how Ed was… and my brain, all unprompted, thinks, “And Justin’s going to die, because he’s going to have some one-in-a-million allergic reaction to the injection. And then tomorrow at the anatomy ultrasound they’ll tell me the baby’s going to die at birth. And I’ll be a widow with no baby.”
And this is why I’m a control freak: My brain cannot be left unattended.
I promptly snapped myself out of it, watched a stupid video on YouTube to cleanse my mental palate, and Justin came out 5 minutes later. The baby’s been kicking me all day. Is all good.
Except for the part where Dorothy’s dead and Ed’s in critical condition. That’s just fucking tragic, and I haven’t found the words yet.
But my brain isn’t allowed to make it needlessly worse. Controls engaged.