Incidentally, very soon Mugs By Marcy also will include additional drinkware products, such as MASON JARS in two sizes (with and without handles) and a customized white PORCELAIN TEAPOT that will keep your tea very hot for a long time.
Please remember to shop at The Howdygram Store for all your gifts and greeting cards this year. (This is a hint. Thank you.)
Concerning the “events” in my eventful week, however, I’ll list them below for your possible interest. You might want to take a few notes.
VISITS FROM MY HOSPICE R.N.
Martha was here on Monday for my routine checkup, and she’ll also be back Wednesday and Friday with her new assistant, an L.V.N. named Leslie. When Martha and Leslie are here tomorrow I want to show them the skin on the back of my left thigh, because I think I fucked it up a couple of hours ago when I scratched myself (hard) with a metal back-scratcher. I wound up scraping off a crusty, creepy layer of shitty skin (it’s a real problem for bedridden diabetics), and I even think I was bleeding afterwards.
VISITS FROM MY HOSPICE C.N.A.
Leticia also shows up every week on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but for bathing and hygiene sessions. Every Monday we also throw in an energetic shampoo, after which I attempt to blow-dry my hair while I’m lying down in bed. (This is essentially as stupid as it sounds.)
VISITS FROM OTHER PEOPLE
Occasionally other people drop by, too, during a typical week, such as my fabulous VISITING PODIATRIST, our hospice SOCIAL WORKER or CHAPLAIN, or a DRUG DUDE with a prescription from the hospice pharmacy in Forth Worth. This week it was the last on that list … a pharmacy drug dude bearing Hydrocodone for my severe chronic pain issues — GOD BLESS DRUGS! — and a new script for Amoxicillin Clavulanate, which will try to kill the months-long UTI that my last round of antibiotics (Nitrofurantoin), which I just finished on Sunday, couldn’t cure. This has to be the most stubborn infection on God’s green earth, and I’m so fucking sick of it I could scream already. The hospice M.D. has thrown every antibiotic in his arsenal at me, and nothing relieves my symptoms for more than 48 hours.
Martha was here on Monday for my routine checkup, and she’ll also be back Wednesday and Friday with her new assistant, an L.V.N. named Leslie. When Martha and Leslie are here tomorrow I want to show them the skin on the back of my left thigh, because I think I fucked it up a couple of hours ago when I scratched myself (hard) with a metal back-scratcher. I wound up scraping off a crusty, creepy layer of shitty skin (it’s a real problem for bedridden diabetics), and I even think I was bleeding afterwards.
VISITS FROM MY HOSPICE C.N.A.
Leticia also shows up every week on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but for bathing and hygiene sessions. Every Monday we also throw in an energetic shampoo, after which I attempt to blow-dry my hair while I’m lying down in bed. (This is essentially as stupid as it sounds.)
VISITS FROM OTHER PEOPLE
Occasionally other people drop by, too, during a typical week, such as my fabulous VISITING PODIATRIST, our hospice SOCIAL WORKER or CHAPLAIN, or a DRUG DUDE with a prescription from the hospice pharmacy in Forth Worth. This week it was the last on that list … a pharmacy drug dude bearing Hydrocodone for my severe chronic pain issues — GOD BLESS DRUGS! — and a new script for Amoxicillin Clavulanate, which will try to kill the months-long UTI that my last round of antibiotics (Nitrofurantoin), which I just finished on Sunday, couldn’t cure. This has to be the most stubborn infection on God’s green earth, and I’m so fucking sick of it I could scream already. The hospice M.D. has thrown every antibiotic in his arsenal at me, and nothing relieves my symptoms for more than 48 hours.
Thank you for reading this. If at all possible, please take a minute or two to remember the Alamo today. The state of Texas would appreciate this, and so would Sam. (Me, not so much.)
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