Apparently with all of my talk of bedroom to hospice ward makeovers, and hooking up to tubes, and my ongoing obsession with The Boy in the Plastic Bubble (yes, I am going to seek analysis for this one), and the fact that I am the only one in this fully capable family that seems to be able to walk the stinking dog, I have created a vision of an incapacitated invalid type of person dwelling in the attic.
Not true.
Erik is totally fine and productive aside from plugging in overnight. Kind of like my iPhone.
And let me tell you what tonight he went golfing. And if you can swing a golf club you can maneuver a paint brush. And if you can maneuver a paint brush your wife spent her evening sorting through an overwhelming amount of paint samples courtesy of Mr. Benjamin Moore.
Life proceeds as normal.
The whole transplant thing is just a little glitch. Our potential donor will have the family weekend strip search phase (i just finished season two of orange is the new black so i'm all into prison lingo right now) of his donor screening at the end of July. Things move slowly, but at least they are moving. I will also proceed with the donor evaluation because if I don't it will make me sound really pathetic. And could ruin my chances at that old botox quid pro quo (prison term).
No comments:
Post a Comment