Jim

Well, since no one seemed to care if I was homeless or not, I will not post about that.

I walked into Jim's room, and he's on oxygen. Like Forest said, you never know what you're going to get. More blood tests, urines tests, lung xrays. Neurology has said that Jim's urine test from yesterday reveals his right kidney has had some damage, and is smaller.

Here's what I know. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm sick to death of this crap. I'm tired of firing questions at doctors as they are walking out of the room. I haven't taken my thyroid medicine today, I DESPERATELY need my bipap machine, because I'm certain I didn't sleep well last night (or any night for that matter) because I feel like an angry bear. I have not had a real meal in a week. My scratched reading glasses are on my last nerve. I doubt I will be home for Thanksgiving. I'm going to ride the metro to a store to buy Jim a nightshirt because he has so much water in his abdomen that his underwear and sleep pants are too tight. But I have to find an XXL and it has to be cheap because I am running out ofmoney. And if I don't get a new keyboard, I'm not posting any more. And I'm angry today. And I'm sick of hospitals. I'm sick of Jim's complaining. I'm sick of my life.

And I would like to also be able to post or eat my slop once without an interruption.

I'm sick of Larry, too.

You all have a nice Thanksgiving.

Grouchy Bithc