“He’s a big boy today,” dad told Tim, his home health care supervisor, laughing jovially in his characteristic way.
Tim normally picks me up and takes me to get my shot. I felt well enough this morning to drive myself after taking an extra Risperdal at five. I feel 100% percent better than I did yesterday with all the medication.
Well, I turned beet red. I was embarrassed by what dad had said. There is an unwritten rule not to talk publicly about my condition. The store was packed with early risers and many turned to look dad said it so loudly.
Tim smiled kindly. “Go get you some cokes,” he said. We have often talked on our drives about dad limiting the amount I drink. He knows I love them.
Well, I made it and now let’s hope for two more good weeks. I’ve got my fingers crossed. I don’t want the good times to end.