We're sitting here, waiting for daddy as he gets hydrated at the cancer center. "Hydrated" is basically the technical term for "getting pumped full of water and saline." In our little cooler full of medicine and supplements, we have a newly obtained medicine called Ambien. It's a sleeping pill for my dad. He's been having issues staying asleep since he started weaning himself off Lorazepam. It makes sense that he has it. He should have it.
I'm scared to death of him taking it, because I was scared to death to take them myself.
Isn't it funny how that works? I guess it's a good sign that I'm worried about his long term wellbeing, since my biggest fear is his becoming dependent on them. Yet somehow the feelings keep circling back to myself and my own fear. Why is that?
Does anyone else do this? Find yourself reacting in fear and trepidation about something, but more because you had once had that fear yourself and transfer it to someone else?
This could be an odd, flip flopped way of "living vicariously" through someone else, yet more like "fearing vicariously."
I wonder if this is what being a parent feels like. Part love, part, empathy, part concern, part total lack of trust in the world around you and hearing too many stories of friends who have become unaffected by sleeping pills from constant use. Needed use, yes, but medicines become less and less effective over time.
That could happen to him. Please Lord don't let it happen to him.
Also, on a more sarcastic note, I find I never truly know how distress I am about something until I start writing and stir it up. I guess I need to deal with things more than I realize.