Not working is causing me to lose my mind. I miss being outside for ten hours a day, earning my living. I have only been off work for six days and it feels like quitting smoking. When I'm not working, it means I made no money today. This is bad. This means I get time to relax and sleep in and think. I don't enjoy this. I have to think about both of my grandmothers, deteriorating into old age. Losing their dignity and sanity and I am flying miles away from them both. This kills me. I've never experienced the death of a family member. I think I would die if I lost my parents. And there's my grandpa who taught me how to enjoy life through work. My grandma who makes the homemade noodles that I'll never stop craving.
My uncle is getting married this weekend. My uncle who has lived with cystic fibrosis his entire life. The same disease that killed his sister, my aunt, when she was a teen. He waited for years for a double lung transplant that would have meant certain death without it. The man has lost most of his greatest friends to CF, after it initially brought them together. His transplant was over a decade ago and now he gets to marry his girl. In the darkest moment of my life, I've always turned to him and regarded the way he fought for his. I am so grateful he's always been there in the back of my mind to keep me from jumping the bridge. I hope to tell him how much he's done for me someday.
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