All in Routine

I asked for anxiety medicine for sometimes when I felt really overwhelmed. She refused. She told me that was a crutch. That I could handle all the anxiety myself. Instead, she prescribed me yoga.
 

My vision is bad. Like, really bad. Wave around and grasp at the nightstand bad, not knowing what dark blob is which, pulling the clock close to my nose to make out the numbers. 

My husband usually brings my tea to me in bed. He gets a certain pride out of doing this. A way of spoiling me. It seems all wrong now if I were to make the tea and bring it in.