TRYING to keep it together!!

I'm not gonna lie, I've become a bit of a hermit. I was once a very vibrant, bubbly, "if there's nothing else to do, let's at least go to the store" kind of person.  This isn't the case anymore!  Covid has done a number on me without me having gotten sick!

Back in April, (Easter Sunday to be exact) the man I was seeing and was head over heels in love with and he with me. The - never had a fight, finally found "The One," kind of man, just.... Quit! Quit talking to me. 

Quit answering my texts or calls and finally when I text and demanded an answer (afraid he was sick with the covid and dying all alone on the floor or something horrible like that) he text.... Yes, his 56 year old self TEXT and broke up with me. Through text. Did I make that clear?  It.  Was.  Through. Text. On Easter. My favorite holiday. 

So here I am, blindsided, afraid of the crud that invaded our world and trying to keep my Autoimmune Diseased self from stress, germs, malaise, malady, and melancholy in general! All which are bad for the conditions that haunt my physical body already. 

So as I hear of everyone around getting sick, I'm over here trying my darndest to stay healthy. I order my groceries and go pick them up and drive away. I don't go to church, friends homes, restaurants or anywhere I might be in danger of catching the crud unless I absolutely have to.

I wash my hands constantly wear my mask to the bank, to Dr appointments and other necessary places. 

I got over "text boy" and was living my little hermited life when I started feeling wonky. I went to one Dr about one issue and she wanted another Dr to change a medicine I'm on and that started a whole rollercoaster of Dr visits, tests, new found issues and ultimately a major surgery coming up in a few days. It all is happening very fast!

Let me just say, I'm nervous about the surgery. However, as always, God's got this. I'm trying not to stress out because that only makes things worse. BUT I'm also being wise and extra cautious of who I'm around. I especially can't get the coughing crud right before an abdominal surgery. That would be AWFUL!

It just seems that the more I TRY to stay away from trouble though, the more it seeks to find me. 

I've told you all of that to tell you this next little 2020 nugget. 

A friend passed away last week. I was asked by my friend, her daughter, to sing for the memorial service tonight. There's no way I wouldn't do it for them, but I have to admit it made me nervous to go into a church full of people I'm not normally around just 4 days before my surgery. I wore my mask until I couldn't anymore (hard to sing with a mask on) I took the microphone in hand all the while very aware that it had already passed through 3 sets of hands and 3 mouths speaking into it.... And then it happened;

I'm just standing there a-singin for the Lord, and my lip touched the mic. Oh. My. Gosh!!!

While my heart was on my friend and the Good Lord, my mind was screaming "I gotta get out of here!"

Ccchhhhiiiilllldddd!! After I left I went to my car, grabbed out my Mary Kay Satin Hands spray hand sanitizer that was on my mind for the last 45 minutes and I just spritz spritz spritzed my entire face and hands!

All I could think about was getting home and out of my covid-19 filled clothing, washing up and relaxing in the safety bubble of my home, where I would await leaving only to go to my brothers before my surgery (since he's the one taking me that morning at the butt crack of dawn).  If I can just keep it together until I get to surgery, I'll be ok!! Right??

Before I tell you the ending of my day, let me first take a moment to tell you about the cute pants I was wearing!  I call them my Floofy Pants. They are of a black and white design with peach at the bottoms and they are... Well, they're floofy, bell bottomy type pants! Very flowy. Very cute. 

So here I am, back to the safety of my cherished abode. I get out of the car and walk towards the front door. I see and hear a car coming down the street that sounds like my son Trevor.  Wondering if he had gotten off work early, I continue to walk to the front door and then it happened.....

I lifted one foot up to the first step, but before I could ever reach it, I got that foot caught in the floof off my pants and did a triple sow-cow straight up the cement steps ,threw everything in my hands across the porch and farted at the neighborhood all at the same time. 

As my shins screamed in pain and I tried to detangle myself from the floof, I thought of just two things.

1. If these stupid pants make it through this, and I doubt they do, as God as my witness, I shall NEVER wear them again!!!

2.  Please, please Jesus, let that car slowly going by while my butt is in the air and I'm bent over the porch like a drunk, please let it be Trevor. 

It was not. 

I picked my dignity, and possessions that had been strewn about up off the porch and walked inside as the car creeped past me.  I changed clothes. Disgustedly threw those blasted "cute" floofy pants in the corner, babied my already bruising shins, scrubbed my face raw, paying particular care to my bottom lip, (because that's the one that touched the mic) and I'm now cocooned in my bed. 

I am TRYING to keep it together. I'm hoping that I can just keep myself in one piece until surgery, then I'm not my concern anymore, I'm someone else's problem for a little while. 

*Update, I think I did get covid, but God protected me from it getting too bad, either that or I've just never gotten it. Pretty sure I did though. Also, don't worry, I'm "churching" whether online or in person.