I’ve had exactly one day at the house since my father came home. I had one full blown break down while I was there, and then had another one when I got home. If I were cut out for being a home care nurse, I would have been a home care nurse. I haven’t asked my brother and sister if they feel the same way, but I’m willing to bet a pretty large sum that they do. I don’t think I can do this. I will for as long as I have to, but “have to” has to be a short time. It wasn’t the worst day of my life, that was Harry’s diabetes diagnosis day when the ER doctor at Boston Medical Center couldn’t tell us that he was going to be all right. Do you have any idea how scary it is to have a doctor give you a look that says, “your kid might not make it?” This is a Caribbean vacation compared to that day. Still… I don’t know what I’m going to do.

What I do know is that home care nurses are friggin’ super heroes.

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I'm wicked tall.

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