Tell me it’ll be fine

The weekend – yes, a whole weekend! – is fast approaching and the date that that we set months ago is suddenly this week. Actually we set off tomorrow. We’re going away for a long weekend, so that’s four whole nights away. And we are going halfway across the country because way, way back at the beginning of the year when none of this was real, it seemed like a perfectly feasible idea. Now I’m nervous.
We’ll be leaving Nick on his own and although he’ll be having carers coming in three times a day, plus a couple of socials at the weekend, I can’t help worrying about how he’ll cope. 
Just a few weeks ago it was impossible even to think about leaving him; now he seems in a much better situation with carers, a social worker and an advisor from the neurological service on board. We’ve also seen the specialist at last, who prescribed a new kind of medication that Nick says is already working. 

He says, yes, go, you'll enjoy the break, I'll be fine. I think he might actually quite like the idea of a bit of peace and quiet after these weeks of my constant interventions and sisterly bossing, so it does seem like a good time to get away. 
Nevertheless I am making endless lists – in case of emergency contact details and whom to give them to, notes to the carers, texts to a couple of friends who have agreed to drop by with reminders of the keysafe and phone numbers, notes to Nick, labels on food containers “Eat this by Saturday”, envelopes with change in case he gets a taxi, etcetera etcetera. 
I have done a big online shop so he has enough food for the cats, ready meals, breakfast things and wine to last him a week (not sure about the latter but that’s one thing I won’t worry about right now)
I have stocked up on loo roll, washing up liquid, mouthwash, bin bags and cat litter. I’ve ironed all his shirts and trousers, turned his mattress and made his bed. 
He’ll be fine.
I just feel very odd about leaving him.