Really Going Home

Well, the ID Dr. came by to see me. He had adjusted my antibiotics, and apparently it worked. They both agreed to let me come home. Now here we go, think you just gonna sign a piece of paper and wheel chair it out the door, Go back to sleep and get in the dream again. I tell ya, I shoulda worked for CIA, me and Wanda had to run a covert operation to get out of the Lake. The Dr's want me to have this pic line. Which is an IV that runs from my elbow, in the the vein up my arm through my shoulder over and down into the tip of my heart. This gives the artery a liner, thus the meds aren't so ruff on them. These can be maintained by a social worker or you can DIY it. Well we met our social worker, she looked at us and said puh shaw ya'll can do this, you don't need a HCS. My blue shield had also been turned by three of them thus far. So we made a 5:00pm appointment to see the HCS people and get my pic. Then we made about 50 trips to the truck. Everytime I would walk in the hall, three or four of them would watch me, thinking I was gonna skate on 'em, probably would have. So I kept pushing my appointment at 5:00. At 4:35 they came got me. No papers to sign, no escort, no wheel chair, just walked right out the front door. I tore my arm band off going down Essen Lane.

GOD BLESS YOU GUYS, WE LOVE YA.