Super Gaga!

So much has changed over the past eight months and I realize how fitting my blog name really is. Gaga, my given grandmamma name, is also defined in the dictionary as "excessively and foolishly enthusiastic," which I am at times. Just think about my joyous dancing wrist fracture from last year. And then there's "ardently fond," which I am for my grandchildren. "Demented" oh Lordy, I hope not. "Crazy; dotty," perhaps.

My somewhat fearful nature is more unsettled than normal because Husband, uusally the coolest cucumber in the room, the one who makes everything right, the person you look to to lift you up, has a new PD symptom that has wrapped itself around his normally calm demeanor and it is called anxiety.

"That" has always been my domain. I am the one who openly admits to fearing small contained spaces (think holding rooms at Disney...why, why, why would the happiest place on earth have windowless holding rooms?) dark and noisy spaces, crowded, warm places. So I guess I can best understand Husband's sudden bouts of panic. I get it. I know it. I just don't want him to have it. I don't want him to have PD, either.

He is on meds now that seem to be slowly helping him regain his fearlessness. I have been pretending to be courageous when he is not, which is so not my forte, but, we are getting through this, together. Husband "gets" now what I've had to overcome and I am learning, in spite of going "gaga" now and then, that it's not so hard to be brave after all.