It's weird how I always enjoyed sleeping in the middle of the bed when Bobby was gone. Last night was a little different. I had gone up earlier and turned my side of the heating blanket on, like always, and he turns his on, so that when we get in it's nice and cozy.
I washed my face, crawled quietly into bed, slid my leg over and his side was
strange, but I didn't reach over and turn his on...I just scooted way over to my side, pulled all the pillows around me like a cave and fell asleep.
He is breathing a bit better but they say he cannot come home yet due to his respiratory status. A few more days they say...a few more days....
then the new issues begin.
He liked the new doctor, a pulmonologist.
The dr looked him in the eye and said, "I will accept you as a patient, but the minute you don't do what I ask of you, you are out."
~~~good, I thought~~~
Maybe this will help him see that being able to breathe is actually quite a big deal which many people take for granted.
With out breath, there is no life...it's the beginning and the end of it all.
Like I told him and some of my friends:
"this is not how he is supposed to die, he screws up all my plans!!!
The plan was; I would strangle him with a guitar cord in a fit of rage after he purchased another damn Marshall Amp!!!"
Not from an asthma attack...
Not by his own doing...
if anyone is going to die...it better be because I was pissed!