Sorry I blew up.

Shaun is making fantastic progress at Crazy Work, as he calls it. In his off time, he's watched One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and Girl Interrupted, and I'm thinking What About Bob is next in our queue. The outpatient psych program is just exactly what he needed, and we are all so thankful and relieved. It's so good to have him back.

And then, on Sunday night, he got a terrible headache. Sudden and fierce and throbbing, it was an 8 on a scale of 10, he said. And with it came a strange shoulder pain. But because we're not smart people, he didn't go in until this morning, before the start of Crazy Work. At 8 am, he had bloodwork and an EKG. (This is our life now, apparently). Everything's fine, according to those two tests, and the walk-in doctor gave him some Tylenol with a barbituate of some sort, to help with his headaches. (Cardiomyopathy patients can't take ibuprofen or aspirin, and should avoid caffeine. It's Tylenol or nothing, but I guess adding barbituates is okay).

But between the EKG and the results, a telemarketer called me. Oh, mercy, that poor man.
"Hello?" I answered, hoping it was good news from Shaun.
"Yes, hello. My name is Dave. How are you today?"
"I'm fine..." The tension in my voice was not being hidden from Dave, I'm afraid.
"I am calling to congratulate you! You have been selected to win a $50 gift card from Wal-Mart."
"Thanks, Dave, but I'm not interested. I'm sorry. Have a good day." I hate telemarketrs, but I see no use in being rude to someone who's doing their job.
"No no no," Dave interupts me. "Just wait..." Oh, Dave. You should've given up easier.
"No, YOU wait, Dave," I snapped. I never snap. I'm nice to assholes, as a rule. My voice turned to a crescendo: "My husband is in the hospital and I AM NOT TALKING TO YOU ON THE PHONE RIGHT NOW. WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

Dave quickly hung up, without apologizing. And V burst into tears because Mommy was yelling at a strange man.

I only feel a little bad, and that's only because it upset V. It had to be done. Besides, Dave, I hate Wal-Mart.