Sheltering in Place – Day 25

Yesterday was one of those above and beyond stressful days. It’s not just the Covid19 thing I have to worry about. It’s trying to keep a man who is recovering nicely from his angioplasty and is now full of energy and boredom. He doesn’t know where to put any of it except in his stomach. The fridge. His new BFF. If he isn’t eating, he’s thinking about eating, talking about eating, and planning his eating. It all seems to run in two-hour increments. Then there’s the mourning of what we’ve run out of that he has demolished and would like to eat. While the risks are low for catching anything from going to the grocery store, especially at 6 am, I keep hoping I can stock up on enough food to go for ten days to two weeks. Good luck to me. We keep running out. Or at least, running out of his favorite foods. Yesterday I did an Instacart. It did not go well. By the time it was my turn for the shopper to shop, over half the items I wanted were gone. This included Acme’s French bread, cheddar cheese, and Bubbies pickles. Hubby does not live well without things like that. He takes it hard. Do not try to tell him that life without a Bubbies Bread and Butter or Dill pickle is going to go well. He will not buy the premise. Fortunately, the shopper snagged the very last jar of Bubbies Bread and Butter Pickles but they were out of the Dill. COMPLETELY. And they had no Acme’s French baguettes. Sold out. In fact, that had no bread at all except for a loaf of sliced Honey Wheat, which I asked the shopper to grab. However, hubby looked me dead in the eye and said,…

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Sheltering in Place – Day 22

This will be brief since I have been going since 5:30 this morning. Today hubby went in for an angioplasty, a procedure to make the heart function better. A miracle, for sure. It uses a balloon to widen an artery and not the kind you get at a party.  For those squeamish, you might want to dial on. Anyway, the procedure is fairly non-invasive all things considered, and the doctor goes in through the groin or the wrist. They prefer the wrist as it’s even less invasive, but sometimes that doesn’t work. Norman got lucky. His right wrist worked. I dropped him off at 7:30 am. They prepped him for out-patient surgery and by 10 am it was done. Of course, he had to hang around afterward for 6 hours while they did this and that. You know, post-surgery stuff. An IV here, a drip-drip there. After all, we are dealing with the heart. Meanwhile, I came home and to amuse myself,  TRIED to make my own hand sanitizer. Twice. A complete disaster. No matter how much I whisked the aloe vera gel into the alcohol, it would not blend. I saved the used alcohol and will use it to get rid of aphids on my gardenias. One must be resourceful when one isn’t a chemist.     For the next two weeks, hubby will be somewhat laid up. Not too much exercise and can’t lift anything over 10 pounds. So lifting the cat is out.     As if that isn’t bad enough, for the next 10-days, he has been told to treat the arm that was used to put the stent in place as if it is broken. Oh, great. I will be his total slave, grateful though he may be for everything I do. It’s not exactly…

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