Raw Writing for the Real World of Bipolar

My dad refused a treatment today. He must be feeling better. Overall, he sounds good. He's still a little bit hoarse. His blood pressure is almost in range and so is his blood sugar. The leg is less warm and red around his ulcers. I was going to post a picture of one like it, but it's just too gross.

He says he's getting out of the hospital tomorrow. I asked him if that was his assessment or the doctor's. It was his, of course. He's a big baby, I swear! I told him that they probably aren't going to let him out if his blood pressure or blood sugars are out of range, that it's a good thing he's there. All he could talk about is his doctor put him on one med instead of eight. Hello! Who wouldn't rather have one good one instead of eight crappy ones that weren't doing the job...oh, yeah...my quacky dad.

So, in conclusion, he's going to be okay unless he screws all this up himself. I think he has enough sense to do what he needs to do. I'll keep my fingers crossed and my candles lit until he gets home.