end o' the week
We made it through the week in fine shape. Regis is home, moving about quite well, I survived my bout of independence, and we're all settled in again. I think Regis is tired of my hovering. The more I see he is able to do for himself, the less I'll hover. I hope.
For the most part, he is a good patient and just does what he has to do to go home. He is not a complainer or a whiner. He puts his head down and gets it done.
I spent the day washing sheets, mattress pad, blankets so he has a somewhat sterile bed to climb into at the end of the day.
I went to the pharmacy here in town, always stressful...today was no exception. More than one customer seems to send them into a tizzy. Today, everyone had a problem.
It's a good thing Regis has not much of an appetite because I have not much of a desire to cook. I can subsist on whatever I can scavenge. I'll eat chicken wings for breakfast or scrambled eggs for dinner. It doesn't matter too much. I took a chicken out of the freezer but it's about the size of a small turkey so I'm not sure what to do with it.
I finished the book I started reading the day of the surgery, Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. It was compelling reading. I'm also reading Bill Bryson's At Home: A Short History of Private Life which is very good non-fiction but not compelling. I can take non-fiction in small doses.
Hospitals are interesting places. Little microcosms of the wider world. All sorts of people, many of them loud. That was my biggest gripe. Also the food there is horrific. Wouldn't you think a hospital would serve real food and not some industrial version of food? Poor sick people. At least I could get in my car and go somewhere else.
Our boys came over last night and assembled and installed the bathroom safety things I bought at Men-R-Nerds. Bless their hearts. I probably could have done it but I barely know a screwdriver from a pliers. I once assembled a bicycle (and a dining room set) with a table knife and a wooden clog. I figure the less you know about those kinds of things, the less you are expected to do. I never was one to want to know about changing the oil in my car. Once you know, you have to do it.
I've gotten so accustomed to Regis squiring me around that when I had to drive myself from place to place yesterday, I was exhausted. My husband treats me like a queen and I love it.
Well, on to the weekend.
For the most part, he is a good patient and just does what he has to do to go home. He is not a complainer or a whiner. He puts his head down and gets it done.
I spent the day washing sheets, mattress pad, blankets so he has a somewhat sterile bed to climb into at the end of the day.
I went to the pharmacy here in town, always stressful...today was no exception. More than one customer seems to send them into a tizzy. Today, everyone had a problem.
It's a good thing Regis has not much of an appetite because I have not much of a desire to cook. I can subsist on whatever I can scavenge. I'll eat chicken wings for breakfast or scrambled eggs for dinner. It doesn't matter too much. I took a chicken out of the freezer but it's about the size of a small turkey so I'm not sure what to do with it.
I finished the book I started reading the day of the surgery, Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. It was compelling reading. I'm also reading Bill Bryson's At Home: A Short History of Private Life which is very good non-fiction but not compelling. I can take non-fiction in small doses.
Hospitals are interesting places. Little microcosms of the wider world. All sorts of people, many of them loud. That was my biggest gripe. Also the food there is horrific. Wouldn't you think a hospital would serve real food and not some industrial version of food? Poor sick people. At least I could get in my car and go somewhere else.
Our boys came over last night and assembled and installed the bathroom safety things I bought at Men-R-Nerds. Bless their hearts. I probably could have done it but I barely know a screwdriver from a pliers. I once assembled a bicycle (and a dining room set) with a table knife and a wooden clog. I figure the less you know about those kinds of things, the less you are expected to do. I never was one to want to know about changing the oil in my car. Once you know, you have to do it.
I've gotten so accustomed to Regis squiring me around that when I had to drive myself from place to place yesterday, I was exhausted. My husband treats me like a queen and I love it.
Well, on to the weekend.
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