It's the third day of the self-quarantine. (That sounds so dramatic.)
The dry cough is still present but is currently masked by cough medicine. No sore throat today.
I thought that I felt a little warm this morning but my temperature reading was 98.5. So, no fever.
I didn't sleep well last night. But, honestly, I haven't been sleeping well for much of the past 10 months.
Last July, we moved to Lake Nona, FL, for Eric's new gig. And, for our house here, we bought a new Tempurpedic bed. I thought I was going to love this bed. At the store, it seemed so soft and luscious. Truth be told, I bullied Eric into spending more than he wanted to buy it.
But, the bed has turned out to be too soft and squishy, especially at the edges. It's hard to maintain a comfortable position for a full night.
But it's not just the bed. It's also the anxiety.
The anxiety comes from multiple places: figuring out how to successfully work remotely; the horrible state of our national politics; and the recent deaths of my mom and one of my sisters.
My mom, Diane Hertzler (pictured) died in November at age 61 after a short bout with advanced lung cancer that was diagnosed in August.
Last fall, I spent several weeks in Pittsburgh to be present during her time in hospice care.
The second death was that of my half-sister, Amanda Snatchko (pictured). Only 34, she died in January at her apartment in Hawaii. Amanda died following a struggle with alcoholism throughout her adult life.
The deaths of my mom and Amanda resulted in a level of grief I had never experienced before.
Grief like this is so weird. It comes in unexpected waves. And sometimes those waves come in the middle of the night.
I pray that my mom and Amanda are now in God's warm embrace.
Love,
Paul
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