Needs a great many things.
Needs each one now.
"I'm cold. Could you get my bathrobe?"
"I'm weak. I think I'm going to pass out if I don't eat something."
"I can't move my chair."
"How many of these pills can I take?"
If you want any one of those things, you have to let me finish one before you ask for another.
I get halfway down to hall to fetch a robe when I get yanked back by the horrifying sound of meds being shaken out of a bottle.
No sooner do I get a plate in the microwave than he decides he's too tired to sit and eat it.
When's my sick day?
And who's going to get my robe for me? Huh?
Thursday, October 23, 2008