Here I am, sitting at my desk at work, bored out of my skull because I finished all of my work two hours ago but have to stay until my service technician is done with the preventative maintenance on my mercury analyzer. Hooray.
So, I'll tell you a story. It's a sad story. You've been warned.
On Sunday Scott fell down our front stairs when he slipped on the ice. It was on the exact same spot where I slipped on the ice three weeks ago.
Now, I got off easy when I fell. All I got was some giant bruising (and a few moments of tear-inducing pain when it first happened). Scott, however, twisted his already injured back.
He can barely move to get from the bed to the couch and back.
I've been doing all I can for him, but, unfortunately, all that entails is getting him food, drinks, meds, and ice packs. I'm grateful he can at least crawl up the stairs to use the bathroom by himself... But there's not much else I can do except sit with him and feel sad on his behalf.
Sad, sad day.
Oh no! That's the last thing either of you need. Poor thing and his back. That never helps. I hope Buster is playing nurse to him. Or at least providing laughs.
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