"What day is it?"
"Huh? What time is it....okay, it's Wednesday."
"No it's not; I just came to bed, so it's technically still Tuesday. Did I take any of my meds today?"
"I don't know..."
"Why not? That's your job; to keep track of my meds." He gets out of bed. "Apparently, I took Friday's on Monday, and didn't take any today."
Okay; so what's the problem? Come back to bed and just skip a day....
"I've got a problem; come in here and help me, damn it!"
I get out of bed and go into the kitchen, where he is staring at his pill tray.
"You didn't fill....what day?"
"I filled it all but Saturday night; you griped at me the last time you forgot to take them on Saturday. All you have to do is put today's meds into Friday's compartment, and you'll be back on track. It's not going to hurt you to miss one day." I go back to bed.
"Okay, but if I drop dead, it will be your fault."
Oh my freaking god.....I refuse to give in to this guilt trip and go back to sleep. Four days later, when I have time to rant about this, he's still very much alive and kicking!
He's 57 years old...can't he keep track of his own damn meds? Maybe he's in the early stages of dementia? He's only been 'officially' retired since May, and 'unofficially' since October 2009, though we didn't realize it until March 2010.
I've made a point of putting his med tray beside the coffee pot in the mornings; so far he's on track. And maybe it was momentary panic which caused him to lose his common sense; or maybe he hadn't put anyone on a guilt trip that week, so I was the 'lucky' recipient at 3am?