This has not been a great Labor Day weekend. First, Dennis had a bed, bad case of the shits all weekend. Most of the weekend he sat on the pot, while I cleaned the bed, the carpet, the floor and his butt. We did manage to squeeze in a trip to the Minnesota Zoo with Mother and JoAnne. That was fun.
Last night he started screeching, hollering and screaming in his sleep. I tried covering his mouth, sitting him up, and giving him a second sleeping pill. No luck. I am sure the neighbors were not very thrilled, either.
I went off to work this morning, and had the usual crap at work. When I came home, I found Dennis lying on the floor, surrounded by a broken glass. I don't see it as often as I did a year or two ago; yet I could assess the situation quickly and calmly and act swiftly. I swept, moved him to his knees, got him in a chair and vacuumed the rest of the mess up. Within an hour, I had made him dinner (mashed potatoes and mechanical soft meat - we are off the feeding tube until the shits are gone) and into bed.
Me , I am worried about Dennis. Dennis is worried about both of us. We are trying to find money to help get him more PCA time, but in these economic times, it is difficult. As long as we have any money at all, we are so low on the priority list.
Dennis is going, once again, to his doctor - one that we both like. He is thinking about a colostomy bag. This is way beyond what I am ready to comprehend right now, but I am proud that Dennis is ready to discuss this next possible step.
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