The unpacking begins
I think we both knew that when our stuff arrived all of our life issues came with it. I don’t remember talking about it at all, but we focused very quickly on getting our house set up when the POD arrived.
We’d been warned about August in Florida before we got here, but even with fair warning I was shocked at how the heat slowed me down. How instead of being the bustling Army brat who could and would set up a house in three days, I was content with unpacking a few boxes from the POD everyday and finding homes for the stuff inside. It was a pretty good way to move, actually. We didn’t live in the middle of boxes and there was never a time when I felt like the clutter would drive me insane.
About halfway through, however, all of it started to hit me. The fact that I couldn’t find the paperwork I needed to sign up for my COBRA coverage, the idea that after we’d finished unpacking I’d have no excuse not to have the surgery, the realization that it had been three months since my diagnosis and that all the positive thoughts in the world hadn’t made the cancer disappear or stop spreading. I woke up most mornings with a headache, I started grinding my teeth again, and I couldn’t stop worrying about money.
My husband threw himself into unpacking. He was up early in the mornings to get things unloaded before it got too hot. I thought he was channeling my moving energy, but it turns out that it was his way to cope. He knew that he needed to find a job sooner than later and that I had much needed paperwork somewhere in the boxes.
In less than two weeks the POD was unloaded and removed. There was nothing to do but get to the business at hand. My husband started looking for a job in earnest and I finally sent in the paperwork for my insurance and set an appointment for my surgery.
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