C. is now home. She walked up the lane from the mailbox. For most of the day she has dozed. She has eaten very little and has little appetite. But she is getting up on her own, resting in a comfortable chair and has on her favorite bath robe. I know that she will be okay. She will have to be especially careful for the next six weeks--no driving, mild exercise, good diet, no lifting, and cardiac rehab.
As for me, I have been hovering. I have to stop doing that because it not only doesn't help her, but it readily makes me crazy. I realize that I am not wanting to be a caretaker, yet I feel as if I need to be doing something. I have the medications organized. I have cooked dinner. I took care of the dogs. I am sleeping on the couch tonight to be near her in case she needs something. That is all I can do. I cannot make her well any sooner. But I surely can make myself crazy.
Tomorrow I am going to go to my boat for a few hours. Her parents are coming over to visit. They don't drive after dark and are not early risers any more. But they will be able to stay for a few hours to allow me to go to the marina. I am hoping for a break for a few hours each day. I consider this to be essential to my own mental health. I need a certain amount of time to myself, time in the outdoors, and time to be free of routine.