Thursday

Well, I have to give Ron is props.  On his own, without any prompting, he apologized for being cranky yesterday, and having the last blackout. 

He's still hunched over and moaning.  That's pretty awful to watch.  I do have to respect the fact that he refuses narcotics.  He is, oddly enough, worried about addiction. 

So I have to watch him suffer.  Not fun, even when he is being nice. 

I slept late, until 9, and I managed to throw out my shoulder my rolling on it today.  I'm pretty stiff but I can work when I need to do so. 

The cats are good, but Torbie fought me on her steroid pill tonight and clawed my hand.  Not badly, more puncture wounds.  I washed it pretty well so I should be fine.  I had Ron help hold her down on the third attempt, which worked. 

I had a horrible cyst on my leg.  It's finally resolving on it's own without intervention.  I think the Vitamin C capsules really helped. 

The weather has been hot and miserable, my diet awful, my caffeine intake moderate.  We had a driver today who said we had a "sick" sense of humor (for the non-American readers, that's a compliment), and wished he could ride with us every day.  I liked him.  I hope he makes it. 

Biscuit just came and loved on my leg.  He's a sweet boy. 

Oh, and I did my God time and all the usual stuff in a timely manner today.  I even filled out the forms for the MRI.  They want a surprising amount of information.  Some of it I had to ask Ron about, but it's all done now. 

I just need to throw him in the tub and scrub him down "real good" before we do it.  I haven't told him yet about the leg ultrasound which is going to be horrible for him.  But we need to see if it's a blood clot causing the trouble. 

I almost wish it were, that would be an easy fix. 

I have a bad feeling Ron will require a back operation. 

Steadfast

A tough day. 

I didn't sleep well last night so I woke up exhausted.  It was nice to have both Torbie (who apparently forgave me for "pilling" her with her steroid) and Biscuit (after his nums) in my bed.  I hit the snooze alarm a couple times and enjoyed the company. 

Ron is in excruciating pain and snapping at me on occasion, kind of like a wounded animal.  I have a hard time "not" taking it personally. 

I feel like hey, I'm here to HELP you.  I'm here because I love you.  Please at least speak to me with a nice tone of voice.  I already have to watch my husband suffering in agony - he forget that hurts me too. 

Oh, well.  It's such a freaking cliché, the wounded alcoholic lashing out at his steadfast wife. [sigh]

Work wasn't too bad (except for watching Ron try to stand up).  I even took him out in the wheelchair (normally he pushes the walker).  He was so, pathetically, grateful.  Our driver was early so I loaded him into the vehicle and took the wheelchair back, locked it up (we don't want it walking off).  I put up the carts, loaded the change (we were doing a change dump) on the walker, and pushed the walker out to the front.  I gave Ron the change to hold while the driver locked up the walker. 

We picked up another client, a guy in a wheelchair we've been seeing a lot lately.  He keeps going to the medical center, I suppose for care. 

I was thinking about that, the demise of hope, when someone with a life changing injury gives up.  I never believed Ron would make a full recovery, not after seeing the damage he sustained after the accident.  He would talk a lot at first, about "When I get my legs back".  I even got him to promise to run a half marathon with me when it happened.  Somewhere around the 1-year anniversary of the accident, he stopped talking about it and started talking more about getting around on a day to day basis.  I never told him it couldn't happen (recovery), but I was realistic. 

I had very severe depressions on the anniversary of Ron's accident, every year, for several years.  Now, 13 years later I can handle a lot.  I can even handle the occasional surprise encounter with the man who ran over Ron.  I can even joke with him, smile, and mean it.  That's all God working in me. 

Today I was looking at a Bible Handout photo from 4 years ago.  I looked so bright and happy.  Now I feel so discouraged and oppressed.  One pastor has told me this is spiritual warfare.  I have heard it other places, too.  I don't know if it is or not, or whether I just failed God and am letting my torch sputter.  I still do my God Time, I still do Bible Handouts, not as often, but I go.  I pray for the recipients every day and do what I can to be kind to everyone. 

I just feel like I failed God somehow. 

So, we got to the bank, unloaded. Ron wanted to wait on the steps.  I left him and took the change in and did the deposit.  I came back out and waited. 

The security guard made some odd comments to us ("Oh, you're disabled?" [I had explained why we were waiting instead of driving off], "You must get a lot of money from the government" - "Not as much as you think." I replied).  I finally concluded he had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome, which explained the inappropriate behavior, standing too close, and "bothering" us when we clearly didn't want to talk. 

Ron had a miscommunication with our driver so we had to wait an hour.  Not fun.  When we got picked up, Ron asked the guy to guy him more vodka.

"You drank it, already?" 
"I only have one left."
"When do you want it?"
"Saturday at the latest." 

Years ago, when he started doing this, he told me, if I informed (the driver) Ron was having abusive blackouts, he would stop buying alcohol for Ron.  I "lost it" during Ron's blackout about 3 weeks ago and informed him Ron was having abusive blackouts.  I was nearly crying. 

He's still buying Ron alcohol.  I'm trying to see some kind of good in that.  If Ron can't use this guy he will find someone else, someone who will probably charge him more money. 

Ron gave him the money as I tried to keep a neutral face.  By this time we were home and I was getting the walker out of the back of the truck.  I positioned it about 2 steps from the truck (I was worried about dinging it) and Ron blew up at me, screaming and waving his hands angrily. 

"If you're that bad" I told him sharply. "You need to be in a wheelchair". 

"No I don't" He groaned as he struggled to follow me into the garage. 

I think so. 

Biscuit just came and sat on my foot.  I can see why some people forsake humans and become "cat people".  It's funny.  I get utterly revolted at the thought of a dirty diaper, but I don't mind doing the litter box. 

I'm sure some human parents feel the same way, in reverse.  "Eww, litter box". 

Funny how people work.  Biscuit is sitting behind me now.  He is such a charmer.  He literally picked me out as I walked down the street, climbed my shoulder like an acrobat, and sat on my shoulder as I waited on the bus.  Then he tried to ride the bus with me. 

He continues to charm, even though he isn't a lap cat.  He's more of a "Sit on the tub mat while Mom takes a shower" type of cat. 

Torbie needs her steroid.  I hate to give her pills.  Not because she is mean, but because she is overall very polite.  She struggles but doesn't fight, and eventually swallows the pill. 

When we got in the house, I took a nap.  I woke up about two hours ago.  I was having a lovely dream about a house in the woods, snow outside, and fresh green homegrown vegetables.  I had friends over, helping me. 

Like I said, a lovely dream.  I hated to wake up but I had to pee.  Oh, and I started my period, finally.  Tomorrow will be the heavy flow day stay close to home or bring a lot of tampons, day. 

I already ate but I may scrounge up a snack.  I already had a protein bar.  I always figure one of those can't hurt. 

I'm going to go dose Torbie now. 

Well, last night after I finished my blog, I checked out Torbie.  She does have a small scab so we will take her to the vet shortly.  I need to get ready to put her in the box. 

Well, I just got back from the vet.  She has "hot spot" or allergic dermatitis.  Doc gave her a shot of antibiotics because she has open, oozing sores, and steroid tablets for me to give her every day. 

Oh, goody.  I'm not a big fan of pilling cats, although Torbie is better that most.

So, I got up at around 6, did my God Time and shower.  Ron took me out to breakfast.  I let him.  I got French Toast and a huge portion at that.  Most places only give you a few slices but not these guys.  I ate the entire thing.  It was good. 

We came home and I took a short nap before taking Torbie to the vet.  I stuffed her in the carrier about 15 minutes before our pickup, went and checked the mail.  I got my t-shirts which are supposed to be "performance" but look like cheap polyester.  I will have to give them a try and see.  Looking at them closer, they're not as bad as I feared.  They are a performance fabric, it just looked like one of those cheap pilly knits that falls apart on the third wash. 

Back to Torbie: She is down about a pound, which is very good.  She was pretty fat.  Doc liked that I admired "her manicure".  She had trimmed Torbie's nails during the procedure and they still look good. 

Doc loves Torbie and considers her a good patient.  Torbie was very good for the vet and no biting, hissing, etc.  She is more a passive resister if anything.  However, she was happy to roll over and display her belly, etc. 

Doc gave her a shot of long acting antibiotic because the wounds (raw open skin - hate to say it but Ron was right) could get infected.  I expected this, because (as a child) I had a cat who used to get "hot spots".  They had to give him steroids, and sure enough that's what they did for Torbie.  I also asked for the "better" flea control product because I see my guys scratching a lot.  I know flea bites can cause "hot spots" and irritations like Torbie is battling. 

Doc asked if I had introduced any new products (cleaning, fragrance, etc.) and I said no.  I believe it is just cumulative stress.  I mean, think about it:
Gravy died.
The survivors became inside cats.
We've had a lot of repairmen over. 
Ron has had some blackouts. 
They all had their annual vet checkup. 
Torbie had her operation. 
Torbie had to wear "the cone of shame" for 2 weeks. 
Torbie had to have her stitches out (and she wasn't happy about that one). 
Epic flea season in Houston.

That's a lot for an old lady to handle in just a couple of months.  3.5 months, to be exact.  I am wracking my brain, and I can't think of any new products I might be using.  The only "new" thing are the garbage bags, and I have had them for over a month now.  I doubt they're the problem. 

No changes to food or treats.  Ron is feeding less treats, which is working, because Torbie is slimming down.  I just hope she isn't losing weight because of the problem. 

If she is, the steroids will take care of that.  Steroids, apparently, make "everyone" gain weight, be they human or feline. 

So, all that and we came home.  I came in the door and let Torbie out, then got half a steroid tablet (per doctor's orders) and dosed her.  I got cat slobber all over my hands, I had to jam it down pretty far.  I washed up (I am allergic), asked Ron to give her some treats (he was drinking and that's the kind of job he likes), and got dinner. 

We ate and he went back to bed, Torbie went with him. 

I had a good nap earlier, by the way, with Biscuit.  Torbie had been sleeping with me but probably not anymore with the dosing and all.  They're good cats. 

I don't care about holding a cat.  I'd like to have it in my lap but that's not mandatory.  What I do love is for a cat to sleep with me.  I just love waking up to a cat or two in the bed, rolling over for a pet, or even better, when they roll over and flop atop me.  Good times. 

I'm a simple girl. 

So, praying Torbie gets better soon.  She did look pretty raw once the doctor - I can't think of a non-sexual term here - exposed her on the exam table.  Let me be clear, Torbie's privates are fine.  It's her "armpits" in the front that are raw and sore.   Poor girl. 

She seems fine, though. 

The other cats are also fine.  Biscuit and Torbie are out on the catio right now enjoying some fresh air.  We had about an hour of thunderstorms today and it was lovely, and cooling.  It's about 10 degrees colder than normal, in the low 90's.  I'm not sure where BabyGirl is hiding, she likes to steal my chair when I'm not in it. 

Depression was around but not as bad as it has been.  I even managed to clean the toilet this morning, and the litter boxes (3 of them) tonight.  I'm also doing a load of laundry. 

My period is due anyday so I am anticipating that.  I should probably put some extra tampons in my purse. 

I think it's funny, in French a tampon is any kind of sponge or scrubber, and in America it has a totally different meaning! 

I have to get up pretty early so I'm going to go now.  Take care and have a good one. 

If you pray, I would love one for Torbie to heal up with no re-occurance.  Thanks! 

A frustrating day

Well, Ron had a blackout but he didn't "point" any of it at me.  Just the usual, grunting, falling on the floor, etc.  He kept me up half the night.  Of course he didn't remember any of it. 

I wondered it he would be fit for work, or had even called in the trips, but he had.  He got ready for work and was ready on time. 

"Did I have the blackout" he asked "After I went and had that extra drink around midnight?"  Thank God I didn't know about that, not really. 

He admitted he went over his portion control "because I was eating a hamburger and I didn't want it to mess with the alcohol [absorption]"  I told him that was a bad idea but didn't get all shriek-y. 

Sometimes he will starve himself the whole day, come home, and drink, "because I get more of a kick if I drink on an empty stomach".  But he doesn't have a problem, just ask him. 

Of course nothing can happen as regards rehab of any sort, until he does admit: I have a problem and 2.  I don't have control over it.  I learned that much from AA. 

Work was pretty uneventful, but something funny did happen: I was bent over, with my head inside a vending machine.  I was trying to get the bucket of nickels so I could fill a change bank.  Someone walked up behind me.  "Hi Heather!"  I said Hi back and teased her about recognizing my butt.  I thought that was so funny, walks up, sees my butt, "Hi Heather". 

It just makes me smile. 

We came home, I ate something and took my pills.  I took a nap because I was exhausted from the sleep deprivation the night before.  I slept enough to catch up, and had Torbie in the bed. Biscuit joined me at erratic intervals. 

He seems to have learned his lesson about his nums.  I noticed they (Biscuit and Baby Girl) ate all their breakfast this morning.  They usually leave 2/3 of it to waste.

When I finish this, I'll give him another can.  He's a good boy. 

Ron was petting Torbie and found part of her fur was matted.  Now he's all freaked out.  He "had" to clean her with a wet wipe.  When that didn't do the trick he called the vet.  Of course they want their exam fee, so they'll see her.  What a waste of time and money.  I am certain she is fine. 

Ron once took a cat to the vet "because he was purring too loud, and something had to be wrong with him".  We haven't spent enough on vet bills, so we have to go tomorrow.  I was also annoyed he did not consult me before he called the office and set up the appointment. 

Ugh. 

Then, all day, he's bugging me, let me know if you want to order Chinese food.  I finally decide, yeah, sounds good.  But he's "on the phone" texting so I have to wait. 

Now, I was taught, if someone is in front of you give your attention to that person.  You don't hold up your hand and make them wait because texting LOL ROFLBAO is more important. 

I won't stand around and wait on him when he's doing that, as I find it rude.  I am your wife.  God knows he has tantrums if I don't hang up the phone when I'm talking to someone, or "pass on" all his commentary. 

Finally he deigns to listen to me.  I tell him I am ready to order Chinese food, but it is so late now you will have to get something too, or I will have to get a double order.  I told him what I wanted and left. 

A couple minutes later, I am in the kitchen and he yelled a question at me.  I answered him twice and he kept saying he couldn't hear me.  How about you take off your headphones, huh?  I hate it when he talks to me while wearing headphones and then complains he can't hear me. 

So, the third time, I yelled "Yes" loud enough that he could hear it.  But now his precious feelings are hurt because I was mean, and raised my voice to him.  So, because I was "mean", he wouldn't call in the order until I "apologized for yelling at him".  I explained, you couldn't hear me unless I yelled.  It didn't register. 

What I hate, but he didn't do tonight, is tell me I'm not mad at Ron (telling me what to think and feel), I'm mad at God because God made Ron deaf.  No, Ron was a drummer in a rock band (for a little while).  Ron listened to music at high volume on headphones.  Ron had bad DNA for nerve deafness.  None of that is my fault.  Besides, like I said, I am 95% sure he was wearing his headphones at the time. 

He kept waiting for my "apology".  Why should I apologize for raising my voice to someone who didn't hear me?  He heard me when I did, right? 

I figured screw it.  I have cottage cheese.  I'll eat that.  So I did.  Ron kept waiting for me to "apologize" so he could call in the order but I won't.  I didn't do anything wrong.  It's not my fault he's deaf, I have no reason to apologize. 

I saw/read something recently about how women are always apologizing for things that aren't their fault, so I have made a concerted effort NOT to do that.  That just feeds his ego and makes him a victim.  The last thing Ron needs is coddling.  He needs a good, swift, kick in the butt. 

But I am sick of coddling the poor, precious baby.  We are going to waste over $100 tomorrow over nothing, NOTHING because he doesn't like the way my cat's fur feels.  She's fine, doing all her normal activities.  You take a cat to the vet when they're sick. 

Not when their fur feels "funny".

A trip to the shelter

Well, I did it. 

I did some research into the location, address, hours, and needs of our local "kill" animal shelter.  I recruited our driver to help.  I collected all Biscuit's uneaten num-nums - still good in their unopened cans, and found I had 5 bag's worth. 

Then I had our driver take me to Walmart where I got various items on the list.  I mainly focused on dry cat food, dog and cat treats, and some peroxide for the clinic.  I didn't want to get bleach or dish soap, worried it might "open up" somehow in transit, leaving the truck a mess and ruining the other products. 

Then I took the cart out to the truck, loaded everything, and off we went to the animal shelter. 

It took a while, they are a ways off. 

Finally arrived.  I went in and saw a nice bottled vending machine, a lot of seating, and some families sitting around.  A lady was at the desk filling out paperwork.  The security guard asked me if I needed help, and I explained I needed a cart, as I had some donations to unload. 

She went and found someone to get one and came back.  We chatted for a minute as we waited for the volunteer and cart to arrive. 

They did, and we went out to the truck.  We unloaded everything, almost too much for the cart.  Good.  I know the shelter has hundreds of just cats so it will go fast.  The security guard came out and did a double take, then grinned and waved. 

I won't say what I got, I already said too much, but I was/am happy to do it.   Anyone can do this, you probably have a car so really no excuse.  I guarantee your shelter will be thrilled. 

You have to have an ID card to see the animals, and I specifically did not bring mine.  I don't need to have my heart torn out by tragic little faces.  I've already done what I could. 

Not so fun, Ron kept bugging me with texts every couple minutes. 

We (the driver and I, as Ron refused to come), went to dinner and got Ron some takeout.  Ron continued to "bother" us.  I don't know why he didn't just come, if he wanted to interact so much.  Or maybe he was "worried" about us, which is stupid. 

We finally finished and beat the rain, as a large stormcloud was moving in.  It did hit right as I got home, and I had to dash through the rain to get into the house. 

I came in to find Ron completely drunk, nearly falling off his walker, grunting incoherently.  Ugh.  I was sorry I had even come home. 

I fed the cats (Biscuit was a little traumatized when I took all his nums away, even though he doesn't like them anymore), and filled their water bowl.  Crap.  I just remembered I need to take my pills, let me do that. 

Did that. 

Anyway, Ron is sitting on his walker, snoring.  At least he is quiet. 

I hope I have a boring night. 

Squeaky mouse could be anywhere

We had today off but I still got up pretty early. 

We were going to Walmart.  Ron said he didn't want to try going in the kiddie cart so I left him up front while I shopped. 

I forgot the tampons.  I should have enough, anyway.  I checked, yeah, should be OK. 

Worst case I still want to do a Walmart run, buy some of those huge bags of cat food, and take them to the animal shelter anyway.  I can certainly pick up a box of tampons while I'm there. 

Ron waited up front while I got out stuff (except the tampons).  I got a lot of dairy products, some deodorant on sale (I love the fragrance and I believe it is on clearance), the q-tips I forgot last time (boy was I happy to clean my ears when I got home), and various "Ron" snacks. 

I am trying to get him to eat more protein. 

Yes, he very well could have hurt his back when he fell during the blackout.  He fell a lot, couldn't stand up, kept crawling and falling and it was awful.  The timing is about right, too. 

At any rate, he was about as stiff as I've seen him in years, since he moved that vending machine back in 2013.  He is not using the wheelchair in the house but everything else is pretty similar. 

I am awaiting the MRI results with a combination of curiosity and dread.  I honestly believe he will need to have surgery, which will make life all around pretty difficult for us.  Who will take care of him while I'm filling the vending machines?  Good question. 

We'll see.  I am also curious to see the blood test results.  Hopefully he will take the results seriously if they show any problem with his liver. 

Doc said he could get Ron a sedating antidepressant if desired, but drinking would be a bad idea.  If Ron "can't" drink maybe he will be more willing to try it. 

I don't know.  I have a million anxieties all fighting to be heard, and I'm trying to just make them all shut up. 

The cats are good.  Baby Girl keeps sleeping in my TV chair, I have to keep moving her to sit.  She is so sweet I hate to do it but she would never get in my lap.  Torbie is sleeping with Ron right now, he will put his hand on her while he sleeps, like a little kid with a teddy bear.  Biscuit, I believe, is either on the back of the couch or out in the catio watching birds. 

He found a squeaky mouse today and had a lot of fun chasing it all around the house.  I'm not sure where it ended up but it's been very quiet of late.  My house is a mess, so squeaky mouse could be anywhere. 

We came home, I put my stuff away, and I took a nap for a little while.  I got up and did my God Time. 

We went to Arby's, well, we tried.  We got picked up by a conspiracy theorist guy who kept talking about Freemasons and such.  We went to an apartment complex. 

We went in the complex.  We waited for ages on the customer.  They finally called the customer and she said she was waiting by the exit gate.  Fine.  We went to get her. 

The driver gets out of the vehicle and the client's very frail, on oxygen and a walker.  Driver is worried about her walking around the vehicle and asks Ron to move.  I told him I would.  And I did. 

He gets out and talks to her for a few minutes, then walks her back to her apartment.  Apparently she decided it was too hot to go run her errand.  It's 4 PM, in July, in Houston.  Did she think she would need a sweater?  And why was she wearing long sleeves and slacks?  In Houston, in July?  Of course it's hot, it's Houston!

By the time the driver got it all sorted out, and "permission" to take us to our destination, it took literally an hour for us to go 10 minutes from the house.  I am glad she received a "bad mark" for cancelling her trip at the last minute (and probably her pickup to go home, too); annoyed we also got a "bad mark" because Ron had to reschedule our pickup.  It wasn't our fault!  They got us there an hour late! 

We finally got to Arby's and ate our meal.  The place is always dead when we visit.  I don't know how they stay in business.  Maybe late night traffic. 

We didn't have to wait too long on our ride home, and we were straight, so that was good.  I took my medication and laid down for a little bit, then called my Dad. 

They had "the grandson" (the child of my abuser) visiting.  Mom flew back with him to his hometown and stayed a few days to "visit".  Dad is at home alone right now, but he does fine on his own.  She will be coming back in a few days.  I gave Dad a rough outline, minus cat activities. 

Ron's up and seems to be moving OK.  I already did the litter boxes but I need to top them off with more litter. 

That's the only bad side to inside cats.  I'm sure our neighbors are very happy the cats aren't "using" their yards and gardens anymore (even though cats always cover it up). 

He's working me to death!

I drank a cold diet soda when I woke up last night.  Oftentimes, it really helps with a headache. 

I couldn't take any painkillers for 2 hours but I could have a diet soda.  It helped a lot, I went back to bed, and got about 4 hours of sleep. 

2 AM came far too early this morning.  I hit the snooze alarm a couple times, cuddles with Biscuit, who had been in the bed most of the night. 

I finally dragged myself out of bed, gave Biscuit his can of food, and took my shower.  I got dressed in a performance t-shirt, comfortable underwear, knit shorts, and my steel toed sneakers.  Ooh.  I'm a fashion blog now. 

We got picked up on time.  Ron had a hell of a time getting out of the house.  He's walking hunched over and groaning in pain.  And he wonders why I took him to the doctor. 

It was the large white van, which has 3-4 steps to get into the vehicle, if you're not riding in a wheelchair.  He had a heck of a time getting into the vehicle. 

There was a blind guy already in the vehicle.  He was listening to music, jerking, spasming, waving his hands around, and jumping in his seat.  I guess no one ever taught him to sit quietly and listen to your music.  Then he started "singing" if you can call it that.  He was only blind, he didn't have "a cognitive" (problem).  He had a very expensive Iphone - a lot of blind people do, but if you want a talking phone you can just buy an LG 450 like Ron got, for $70. 

I'm annoyed because someone like that makes Ron look bad.  People think every blind person = weird.  Now, admittedly, Ron lectures every driver he can about the mark of the beast so maybe I should shut up. 

We got to work.  Ron hobbled down the hall to our area and collapsed into his wheelchair (we store a wheelchair, at work).  We got to work.  I had very little inventory so I did what I could (not much!), helped Ron when I could, and waited on Dr Pepper. 

They came around 7:30.  The driver was delighted with my "new" handcart.  It was so much easier to load the soda and transport it into our area.  The driver unloaded the cart while I made him a lunch.  We paid and got our receipt. 

He left. 

We left pretty soon after and went to the warehouse.  I got $600 worth of inventory, candy, snacks, you name it.  Except water, which they didn't have.  I put the chocolate in the truck, in Ron's lap. 

We went back to work.  My carts were pretty empty so I got them out quickly.  The other vendors were getting their second delivery of the day. 

I loaded up the carts, brought them in the building, got a very stiff Ron into the building, and got to work.  Ron ran change - putting it through the coin sorter, and sorting quarters, nickels, and dimes into separate jars.  It's important to transport the change in a jar with a screw on lid, because accidents happen and it's no fun picking up 300 quarters off the floor. 

I finished and told Ron I was done.  He wanted to keep sorting change.  I reminded him, bad headache yesterday morning, bad headache last night, very little sleep, I got up at 2 am, got the soda, did "Truck day", could we please go home soon?  He finally agreed, grumbling, but I think his back/legs were bothering him. 

We called and "took our ride off of hold".  Ron had suspended our 8:30 pickup when Dr Pepper ran late.  He asked them to come and get us, they said sure. 

In an hour. 

Not bad considering, especially considering the neighborhood, but a long wait nonetheless.  At least we had some chairs in the air conditioning, it was bright and oppressively hot. 

We made a raid on the other vendor's machines and a pit stop at ours (well, I did) and got some snacks.  We ate and Ron drank a ginger ale while we waited.  For an hour.  To go home. 

Finally pickup time, or thereabouts.  We went out and waited a few minutes while Ron hunched over in pain.  And, there's our ride. 

Ron took a minute getting into the minivan.  I'm glad he's getting an MRI pretty soon. 

We went home, I ate, took my pills, and went to bed.  I slept for hours, having dreams about being thirsty.  I woke up thirsty and drank all the water out of my bedside water bottle. 

Then I got up.  Biscuit had slept with me, apparently after throwing up in Ron's bedroom.  I stepped in the puke.  Yuck. 

I cleaned it up.  I got online for a while. 

Now I plan to go back to bed.