I just came back from Bigfoot’s room. He looks much better. He admits he nearly died. He admits all men are pigs. Somebody else is staying with him tonight so I can sleep, and he’s better enough that I don’t think I would have bothered to stay tonight anyway.

He had two more heart attacks on the operating table. They had been talking about airlifting him to Duluth for the surgery, but then decided he wouldn’t live that long and the leg had to go. Now.

But we’re all optimistic, because now he is firmly plugged into Medicare/ Medicaid, and he can start getting regular medical care, and teeth, and a new leg and a new heart valve and a pacemaker and an insulin pump, and he’ll probably be healthier overall.

I’ve revised my list of things I wanted to have in place by Monday, down to “I need to be on campus Sunday night.” I can make next week my “start good new habits” week just fine. I have instant oatmeal, so I can at least eat a better breakfast than I was getting there, and I think I’ll talk to the dietitian about some other things that might be better. We can hit the co-op tomorrow for fruit and tea, and that should be good enough for this week.

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