I wrote yesterday about 11:11 and then missed it entirely. I spent the day in the ER with my husband with yet another nose bleed, i.e. blood flood from hell. By 2:30 he was in surgery (3rd one this year) trying to stop the bleeding. By 7:30pm he was finally given enough morphine to put him down long enough for me to sit and rest. My husband is 6'3, 250lbs, and the same personality as General Patton. He is exhausting to tend to. I have been with him through many types of surgeries over the past 10 years or so and every single time without fail as he is waking up from anesthesia he says the exact same thing "FIND MY GD PANTS, WE'RE BUSTING OUT OF THIS JOINT." I think I shared here that one time with two IV poles in tow, broken bones and more stitches than I can remember, he took off out the front door of a hospital with his bare butt shining for the world to see because he wanted " A GD TACO FROM JACK IN THE BOX."
OK.........I'm off to the shower and back up there to listen to his tales of how incompetent the staff is. sigh.