A Trying Day

The day went from talking to the painter about bicycle trips (he’d come by to make a small repair), to listening to Eric insist that Tylenol is not acetaminophen, or was it that ibuprofen causes liver damage, either way, I agreed with everything he said as I handed him another Tylenol.
He spent the day filled with pain and wooziness. The advice we got was to, basically, grin and bear it, but I’m not complaining about advice, any of it is helpful. His leg (with its huge hematoma) really did get worse by day’s end. I brought Aunt Dorothy’s walker up from the basement so he could sit in it to get from couch to bed. He had fever, sweats, and was quite ditzy. Just as we reached the bed, he collapsed, so I grabbed his phone and called 911. The dispatcher was great, but Eric rallied, sat up straight, and insisted he’d fainted; he was right - after he was tucked into bed, we talked and I watched his face regain color. So I went to bed, and this morning he looks great and said he slept all night. His leg is still swollen and painful, so we’ll plod on . . .