In early July I spent a week Bay Area with my sister K, her husband M, their 2-year-old daughter ER. (Henry is living there too, working as ER’s nanny) It was a lovely visit, and we discussed the plan we made when Henry moved up there early this year. The plan was that they’d find a bigger house to rent and I’d move in with them, because I really can’t live alone anymore. Too scary with my health the way it is; also lonely because I don’t have the energy to get out and do things with other people very often. But the “bigger house” plan hasn’t happened yet for various reasons, so they’re clearing out a room for me to live in and I’ll be moving up there in mid-August.
So I’m moving again! I’m really excited about living with my family, getting to spend time with Henry and ER before I get any sicker, having people around for company and support. And especially feeling useful again — I think I will really be able to make everyone’s life a little smoother by helping out in the little ways that I can.
It’s hard to leave my San Diego family, and it’s absolutely crushing to leave Jeff-the-therapist. Argh. He’s been helping me for almost four and half years, and now I’ll need to find someone new. It’s daunting and scary.
I’ve got a moving company hired and am packing the good stuff and giving unwanted stuff away. I have four doctor appointments and two car appointments this week.
I’ll try to record a new chapter of something soon! :)