Drama King

Poor Tom is still sick. He's just down right miserable. And, how do I know this? Because he tells me. Lots. Lots and lots.

Home Health was supposed to come over today to check Tom's INR. At the time he was sleeping, though. So, I politely refused them today, saying that Tom getting some decent sleep was much more important than his INR (which would not have an accurate reading while he's sick anyhow - and the last time it was checked it was just a smidge off).

I suggested the nurse stop by tomorrow. She really wanted to come by today, especially after I told her Tom was feeling poorly. She wanted to check his vitals, she said. Yeah, I can do that myself.

Uhm.
Well, his heart is beating. Check.
BP is fine. Check.
Lungs are congested - no need for any fancy nursing tools for that. But, his cough is productive and his breathing is fine. Check.

DO NOT COME OVER AND WAKE HIM UP! M'Kay, thanks, buh-bye.

So, I've called the doctor's office this afternoon and left a message with the nurse to see if there's a magic pill out there that will make Tom feel all better.

I really hope so, because the longer he's sick, the faster I want to jump off a bridge.

Man, I don't even know where there's a bridge around here! I better start looking.