|Who knew? Consider this your laugh for the day.|
Cliff saw our family doctor today. There really wasn't anything the guy could do, but since he is our first line of defense if we need advice or help, we needed to get in touch. I'm a little depressed over this whole situation, thanks to Google (don't tell me not to Google; you know you'd be doing it too). This whole problem apparently isn't a thing people always get over rapidly. Biliary leaks don't have a "one-size-fits-all" solution, from what I've learned. All the doctors can do is try first one thing and then another and hope for the best. Meanwhile, the patient suffers.
When the nurse came in this morning to take Cliff's blood pressure (which is running really low, 100 over whatever), she said, "How are you?"
"Fine," he answered.
This is a pet peeve of mine. He refuses to be honest with the doctors and nurses. In the hospital, when I could tell his pain level was obviously eight or above, he would tell them it was two; his excuse was that they would force a pain med on him, and pain meds made him sick. I am sure his pain level is five or so here at home during all his waking hours, because the tube that runs between his ribs causes him great pain. Not to mention that his guts are still in constant turmoil. I know this because he hasn't gotten on a tractor a single time since he's been home, and there are tractor chores that he would normally love to be doing that are undoubtedly driving him crazy. Not that he says that, but after living with someone for close to fifty years, you know certain things. He isn't hiding a thing from me!
So, I'm a little downhearted. He doesn't deserve this.