Yesterday was the 13th anniversary of my aortic root replacement. First time I ever I totally forgot it.
(I forget something:
“Hey, I’ve got a brain aneurysm”
Mary: “You’re milking that brain aneurysm for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”
Well, we spent a lot of money on a very small amount of ice cream at Cold Stone Creamery (Bruster’s just went up a bunch of points in my book, but our local chain Sandy’s still has the best deal on “fancy” ice cream).
I guess we’ll celebrate “ICU Day” today.
Me. A person pushing a big cushy recliner on wheels in case I fall. Someone puhing my IV cart. Two people holding me up on either side. One of those people being Mom. Walking loops around the ICU. Fun times.
“E i in ou o y ou”
“What’s he saying?”
Doctor “Remove the respirator, so he can talk.”
“But he can’t breathe.”
Doctor: “Let’s try.”
[respirator pulled out–very painfully]
“GET THIS THING OUT OF MY MOUTH!”
“If you don’t go to the bathroom, we’re going to have to put in a catheter.”
“Leave me alone to go by myself, and I will.”
“I don’t understand what he’s talking about. He keeps saying he hates this country, something about privacy?”
“Oh, he’s saying he doesn’t understand why a woman can have an abortion but you won’t let him go to the bathroom by himself.”
“I’ve never seen someone on morphine quoting Aristotle.”