Ch... ch... ch... changes

So, while I waited for Bill to come out of a surgery that turned out to be sublimely uncomplicated, I had some time to think. I'm not a worrier, but I could see several possible outcomes, and considered them one at a time, a little like pondering different places I could go for a vacation, except without the thrill of expectation.

First, I thought, what if he dies? And I thought about paralyzing grief, affairs to reorder, being alone, the rest of the family . . . Yes, that's what that would be like, all right, and then some. Second, I thought, what if he takes weeks or months to recover? I'd take a lot of time off work, ferrying him around, caring for him and the house and all. Then, what if he's permanently disabled? He might need more care than I could manage alone, or even need to be in a care facility. While I ran the scenarios through, I kept thinking, "OK, I've looked at that and I'm not afraid to face it." But I kept coming back to how I'd need to take good care of myself.

Then I thought of another scenario: what if he recovered beautifully, and didn't need heroic efforts from me? Well, then all I was left with was taking care of myself! When I looked as frankly at my situation, I dared myself to do the same what-iffing. Like: what if I didn't have to carry a pager 24x7? What if I didn't have to commute 106 miles round trip? What if I admitted to myself that my dream job wasn't such a good dream any more? What if I retired?!?

So, I did.