Day 3

He’s feeling well enough to be up & around the house, but if he bends at all, the pain roars back.

Joe wouldn’t let him go this morning, so Chris comes downstairs with his chaps on, looking for his leather coat. He thinks he’s taking off on his motorcycle. He goes out to the garage & it’s been shut off, with the door put down. He calls a friend who just bought a new lathe (for pen making) & Chris wants to see it. This is the same friend who has chronic back pain & a prescription for Percocet, which he gave Chris one of behind my back yesterday afternoon. Since this friend is twice Chris’ physical size, it’s no wonder the pill was too strong for him & made him loopy. Chris is under threat of death if he takes anything given to him by anyone but me. Chris has a really sensitive system anyway & even an adult dose of Nyquil is too strong for him. Friend isn’t home. So he isn’t going anywhere.

If he would stay on the couch, or in bed, or somewhere & be quiet, my nerves would be alright. But he won’t. I was filling the seed cups for the birds when he comes over to irritate & got hit on the hand with the tongs that were laying there. He got the message & went somewhere else.

I found out that he hurt his back by lifting a 6 gallon water heater, the same way he carries a laundry basket upstairs. He did this with Joe there. Why, I ask, wasn’t Joe carrying the damn thing? I got no answer.

So we’ll have another day of him on the couch, whining, trying to call Joe to check on the work he’s doing, or yelling “Mumu, where are you?” if I get out of sight. If he doesn’t stop today, I’m going to get him down, hog-tie him, gag him & put his butt out in the garage. If he’s lucky I’ll turn on his heater.