"People don't give you enough credit"

I had to get up at 3 AM, delivery coming at work, sodas are our living, gotta get them. 

My phone rang sometime in the middle of the night.  It was Ron. 

"Where am I?" 
I told him he was in the hospital. 
"And I woke you up!  I am so sorry!" 

It didn't matter, I went back to sleep pretty fast. 

I woke up at 3, got ready, put the cats in the bedroom.  I forgot to give them food and water so they went without for about 16 hours.  They forgave me and I put food and water in the bedroom so this won't happen again. 

I thought Ron might be coming home.  The hospital wanted to be rid of him. 

I went to work.  The other vendor's wife, and one of his employees, had horrible moist coughs.  I was horrified.  I took all my vitamins and plan to get a good night's sleep. 

I stocked 18 cases of soda, got the delivery (short 2 orange sodas), stocked snacks, did the bottled vendor (4 cases), and serviced the coffee machine.  The other vendor and his wife sat at a table and watched me work.  They said they were waiting on a delivery.  I'm trying not to read anything into it, but the original plan per our boss was for the other vendor to take over our business, keep some of the profits, and give us what's left. 

Ron and I both said HELL NO.  We haven't worked this hard to hand it over to someone else. 

I am certain the other vendor was disappointed.  He is always asking us questions about our level of sales, etc. 

Anyway, it was pretty creepy being watched, especially with her coughing so much, but I did my work. 

The worst part of the day was mashing up the cardboard boxes.  Soda comes in a box, or tray, and I have to mash it up before I put it in the recycle bin.  I really missed Ron at that moment because he always does this. 

The rest of the work was fine.  I finished up in about 4 hours, called my ride, and put my stuff away. 

I was happy to get away from that petri dish, a lot of employees at work were also coughing moistly. 

I took everything today, oregano oil (capsules), olive leaf (capsules), powdered vitamin C (enough to put my teeth on edge), etc.  I also, as a matter of course, take antioxidants every day too. 

I got to the hospital around 11 or so.  Ron had mentioned he had had physical therapy already but didn't mention anything about it. 

Later on I found out they sat him up and he screamed bloody murder after about a minute, until they laid him down again. 

Doc came by and was very unhappy to hear about the urination issue.  He said he would call in a urologist. 

I got some lunch.  As I was bringing it back to the room, I dropped the tray on the floor, ruining perfectly good creole wings (Ron) and a bacon cheeseburger (mine).  I went back to the cafeteria.  When I explained they replaced the food for free and even offered an employee to help walk me back to the room.  I got a bag instead and managed just fine. 

Ron loved his chicken and ate it down to the bone.  He was sucking the bones.  I was happy to see him enjoying his food again. 

He fell asleep.  I took my meds and ate my food. 

The urologist came in.  I gave his urology history.  Doc prescribed Flomax (! you were right) and said Ron would be fine. 

Ron really hates prostrate drugs but if it's the difference between going independently and having a catheter, you bet. 

I tried to nap.  It had been a long day. 

Physical therapy came by and "narced" on Ron, telling me he hadn't been able to even sit for more than a minute.  They tried again.  Same result, Ron screaming in agony and falling back down in the bed. 

Whatever Ron has done to me in the past, he's certainly paid for it, let me tell you. 

Not that I see myself as a vengeful type. 

Ron hasn't had any DT'S but he did say he wished he could "tune out".  While he seems a little more relaxed on the pain meds he doesn't seem to be dependent on them for anything other than pain control. 

He didn't use the pain pump today, and he seemed to have more clarity of thought.  That was nice.  He was very sweet unless someone wanted him to sit up. 

The social worker came by.  She asked how I was going to get Ron home and I confessed I would probably have to use an ambulance. 

She said she had talked to physical therapy.  The conversation continued and I ended up telling Ron I thought he needed to go to rehab. 

He was recalcitrant at first but I told him, I can't leave you alone like this.  What if the house catches on fire or you have to use the toilet?  You can't even sit in your wheelchair. 

That led to a mighty attempt to do just that, which resulted in, you guessed it, Ron screaming in pain and collapsing into bed.  Then he agreed. 

I told them we wanted to send Ron to rehab.  That is what they all wanted anyway.  They "let" us pick a place near the house, Ron picked one near our favorite BBQ place.  Within 3 hours, the ambulance showed up. 

They were very nice and did a really great job of transferring Ron to their gurney.  I was impressed.  I told them people don't give them enough credit for performing a very valuable task. 

Part of me wanted to go with Ron.  He's my husband after all. 

But part of me knew I had been up for over 15 hours, no rest, I have a condition, and by now I had remembered I had locked the cats in the bedroom with no food and water.  I felt like a real shit for that. 

So, Ron went to rehab and I went home.  I called my family and updated them.  They all sounded very relieved to hear it. 

Ron called me, and the rehab called me.  They want me to come in and sign papers tomorrow. 

Good thing I already arranged a ride. 

The cats were very happy to see me, and forgave me after I gave them a num-num (canned food) and some treats.