As if pain management wasn't hard enough, poor Pete has been itching like crazy today, most likely from one of his many medications. The dr. wants to wait until tomorrow before making a change, hoping that the benedryl and topical cream will help tonight.
Reminds me of when I was a kid and broke out in hives after taking penicillin. I was not a good patient, complaining long and loud over the maddening itch that would never quit. My grandpa Dick told me that if one of the welts were to wrap itself all the way around my waist I'd die. I believed him and checked the big one on my stomach about every five minutes for two days straight. My mother was sympathetic and packed me in baking soda and water paste. Even her patience was tried by my insistence that I'd rather have polio than the hives.
Fortunately for all us, Pete is taking his itch like a grown-up.
And tonight he's watching the football game with a big bowl in his lap, feeling like he just might throw up. Poor guy.
Heather was a great nurse today while I was at work, faithfully recording every medication he took. She made a run to Target for some basketball shorts that are easier to get on over the big leg brace. She tried to make him pinky-swear that he wouldn't get up while she was gone. He refused, and sure enough, he found a reason to get out of the chair while she was gone. Happily, no falls to report.
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