Anxious Thoughts: Monday

So this is an example of the ways in which my thoughts run amuck.

On Saturday night my parents came over after having been on vacation for three weeks. They played with the boys and then (no surprise) Carter asked if he could sleep over at their house. So, we packed his bag and off he went. I chatted with my mom a few times on Sunday morning about funeral arrangements for her uncle and then again around noon regarding the funeral but this time she also said, "You should probably come and get Carter. Dad's not feeling well."

Amber: What do you mean he's not feeling well?
Mom: I don't know. He's got a gut ache. I guess his stomach is upset.
Dad [in the background]: I've had the diarrhea!

My immediate thoughts are laced with panic:

- Oh my god, Dad has the flu and now, since Carter stayed there, he's going to get it for sure.
- Then once Carter gets it, he's going to give it to Grayson and probably Jeff and me.
- And Jeff's got an insanely busy week at work, so this is the worst week for him to get sick.
- AND because Jeff's got such a busy week at work, he for sure can't stay home to help me if one or both of the kids do get sick.
- Oh, no, AND, he will likely be home late almost every night this week because of the things going on at work, so I'm literally ON MY OWN with the kids all day on Monday and then right into the evening/possibly bedtime.

I go to get Carter and go into the house (which I don't want to do, but I know that sitting in the car and having them send him out is too far, plus, my anxiety directs that I go in and see for myself how Dad seems).

I go in the house.

Dad doesn't appear ill at all. He's still running around like a crazy ass with Carter, as per the norm. He volunteers up information, saying he's had the runs all morning and thinks it's the chicken he ate last night. "But mom ate the same thing and she's not sick," I point out. "Yeah, but I ate a lot more than her. And it was really spicy."

I notice a handful of things that stress me out:

- Carter is all over my dad, like the man is a play structure.
- Dad is telling me that Carter told him he needed to shave his beard because his kisses are too prickly. Dad says that Carter told him that he will only give him kisses on the cheek from now on until that beard is dealt with. (This should just be funny, but my first thought is, "oh my god, so you guys kissed on the mouth and you might be sick?!)
- He's sitting on Dad's lap, cuddling. (eeeeee! why so close?!?!?!)
- He's got his hand on my dad's hand. (Ugh, and Carter sucks his thumb, so he's touching Dad's hand, which likely has his flu virus on it, and then that thumb will be in his mouth within five minutes.)
- When we leave, Dad asks for a hug from Carter, who obliges. Dad kisses his cheek. I wish their faces weren't so close. (Later, when I kiss Carter's cheek, I wonder if there is any bacteria there from when Dad kissed him. I do it anyway.)

I don't say anything or stop anything. I try to remind myself that I don't know that Dad has a virus at all and there is no guarantee that Carter will get it even if he does, and -- the most important thing -- people get sick all the time. It's a normal part of life and it will be okay if Carter and Grayson, or all of us, get sick. We will be sick and then we will care for ourselves and each other and then we will be healthy.

But I'm still freaked out.

We go home. Everything is fine. I wonder all day when enough time has passed that I can text my dad to see how he's feeling. It needs to be enough time that, if it was just something he ate, it would be out of his system and he should be feeling better, and also enough time that if it's a flu, he has gotten worse to the point that he now knows it's a virus. I settle on about 5:30. He doesn't respond. I'm hoping that the lack of response is because he went to his soccer game at 5:30 (or around there; I wish I could remember what time he said) and not because he's in bed sleeping...

Over the course of the evening, I don't watch Carter too closely (but mostly because I figure he won't be sick until either tomorrow or the next day). But there are things that I have to stop myself from doing.

- We made those de-freakin-licious Pillsbury sugar cookies. I asked Carter if he wanted to take the cookies out of the package to put them on the baking sheet for me. He did. (I had to force myself to ask him because I know he'd enjoy it and want to do it, but I don't want to ask him and think I should just do it myself because if he has the flu, and simply isn't yet showing symptoms, and touches the food we will all eat later, I'm just infecting the rest of my household.) But I let him do it anyway. I let him do it because I know that I'm being ridiculous. I don't even know if he's even sick. It would be reasonable to not have him near/prepping food for the family if he actually was ill, but he's not. But it's still really hard.

Bedtime comes and we carry on about our evening.

 My dad finally texts me back at 9:00 p.m. and says that his stomach feels funny, but he ate pizza with no issues.

That makes me feel significantly more stressed out and more certain that it's a flu. I respond with, "Ugh, that makes me think you probably have some kind of virus and Carter is going to get it!" He says, "I don't think so. I don't have a fever or feel achy at all. I'm pretty sure it was the hot chicken wings I ate (all twenty of them)."

And here we are Monday morning, watching Paw Patrol after having eaten breakfast. Everyone seems fine, but I'm watching Carter for signs of illness and just waiting with dread for him to say, "Mom, my tummy hurts."

It's 10:00 a.m. I'm resisting the oh-so-strong urge to text my dad to see how he is today. Or to text my mom to see how Dad is today. Or texting my brother, Curt, who works with my Dad to see how he is today. I know this is one of the behaviours that my therapist wants me to try to stop engaging in, so I'm not going to do it. But, my god, it's so hard.

So this, my friends, is an example of how my thoughts work when my brain perceives the "threat" of a stomach virus/flu that may also cause vomiting.

Welcome to the land of my crazy. (I don't actually mean this disrespectfully to myself. I honestly believe we all have our own version of weird and crazy -- some just prefer to present a more consistent guise of normalcy than do others.)

*UPDATE: It's now 8:15 p.m. and I didn't text anyone to see how my dad was today. I resisted the desire to do it all day, but kept reminding myself that whether or not my dad was sick isn't the issue. The real issue is my lack confidence in my ability to handle the situation in the event that my kids do get an illness. I worked at reminding myself all damned day that it doesn't matter if the kids get sick or not because I will do just fine at caring for them. Yes. Just fine.

A.