GpaK appears to have been in a bar fight. While at Carol's house in Virginia for the Month of September, he fell down a few stairs, head-first into a railing. Thirteen stitches, two black eyes and, worst of all, a broken bone in his hand.
He returned home less steady (likely because he can't use the walker with one hand and now relies on a cane) and more cranky. If he's not describing a fabulous meal (oh it was so good) or his fabulous caregiver Carol C., he's complaining. Here's a sample:
This morning, when I asked if he brushed his teeth (and answered Yes):
"Why the hell should I brush my teeth in the morning, when I just brushed them before bed and I haven't eaten anything since?!"
BTW - his toothbrush was dry.
Last night, before the Brewers' playoff game:
"These TV announcers and their insipid remarks!"
After being told that he has an 8:15 am doctor appt:
"8:15? That's EARLY!"
Dad - you are usually up by 5:30
"No I am not." (right - it's usually 3:30, then 5:30)
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