This whole caregiver business is getting to be a drag--especially when there isn't the slightest hint from the care receiver that he notices, let alone appreciates, the care.
Yeah, it was a bad day. Pat asked me to ask Barb H., who's an R.N., to remove his stitches. Long story I won't go into, but she said she would, and she and Ray came over, Ray just to visit. It turned out the stitches have become embedded and she couldn't get them out. I called the doctor's office but, of course, they're only open in the morning on Saturdays. I left a message asking what we should do now and haven't heard back from them.
When the H.'s were here, I mentioned that I could have gotten the stitches out myself if they weren't embedded, and Pat made a cutting remark about that in front of our friends. I stormed out after they left, went to the supermarket, and we've barely spoken since.
Today, Alison and family are coming for Father's Day. I was looking forward to that, but this really puts a damper on it.
What a shitty life.