I really had it out with Jim yesterday. He still wouldn't shower, and he's not doing all of the things the doctors told him to do. He's supposed to use at least six cans of his liquid food a day. He only used three yesterday, and even that's debatable because I think he's fibbing and only used two. He's got a little excercise that he's allowed to do with italian ice but he's not doing it right and the italian ice is taking away from his using more food, so I've refused to buy him anymore of them. He can do the same excercise with ice chips, so let him do it that way. He was supposed to do six breathing treatments yesterday: two with the sulfur and four with the albuterol and he only did two with the albuterol. At least he's taking his medication, and at almost $100 a pill he'd better. He claims the super anti-biotic knocks him on his ass, and I believe that because it's got to be strong as hell, but he'll never recover if he doesn't get in enough calories...three cans is only around 1000 calories and no one can live on that for a long time.
So we had a long talk last night. I asked him if he wanted to die. Of course not, he said. Well, he'd better start following instructions or he will die. He promises to turn it around. We'll see.
In the meantime I'm still having to deprogram Jimmy from his six weeks of being spoiled by Grandma and Grandpa and it ain't easy. Plus having to do all of the chores around the house is starting to take a toll on me. I'm beat and overwhelmed. Maybe it's time for a cleaning lady. And I haven't gotten my stuff together for taxes yet, because I never expected to be in Boston so long. I have got to get it together today.
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