If I Told You...

You would not believe me. But people who really know me would. This is the shit I talk about. The little unnecessary extra stress that makes people wonder why I have not already fucking died from the shit I endure. But I digress:

Let's recap the last 24 hours: Crisis being managed: I spoke to pulmonary/cardiologist/attending physician and cleared up our misunderstandings. Medications tweaked, extra care taken, considerations made, referrals noted etc. Jason was calm, Jason has been good, no horrible events. Not perfect just not completely horrific.

He is still doing everything on his own. Breathing etc.

We talked. Not him. Me. He listened. He ate his protein and was propped up in bed. I prayed. I prayed on him. Next to him. Even tried to make him mouth words. We lotioned his legs and his hands, and moisturized his lips. He got his meds, and his new nurse Rachel was very attentive and helpful. She appreciated my tips and treated him really nicely, taking extra care even when she didn't really need to.

Friday should be uneventful...

...Jason's stomach Peg just fell out.

*drops the mic and walks off the fucking stage.*