Paper towels from hell

It's been too long since we last met.  Lots of changes. Pat nearly died and lo and behold, just as the good people at Duke Hospital called for that code blue or whatever that is so scary, our Rector walked in. Proof that we are not alone...and not in that X files sort of way.
Anyhoo, Pat was trached, our lives changed again and WE ARE STILL HERE!

The biggest change was the advent of the nurses, for which we are immensely grateful.  I was drowning, due to Pat's deteriorating condition the summer of 2014.  I had quit working but we were still tending the babies twice a week.  I was about to lose my mind, then unbeknownst to us,  we learned (following the procedure), the VA provides nurses for trached patients.

 After a weeks stay at the Duke ICU, we came home to what seemed to be a MILLION PEOPLE IN OUR HOUSE...it was the welcoming/ check in committee from the nursing company and I just about slit my throat. Pat was useless.  He sat at his dynovox and all he did was tell everyone (who were all women) how pretty they were and I was losing my mind. They were doing what they had to do and I was able to contain myself but MY GOD....They presented me with a HUGE ROLL  of paper towels, telling me that now that they were here, in one of those bizarre insurance things, they would be providing us with enough paper towels (seemingly to encircle the globe twenty times over) so I wouldn't ever have to buy them again. It was a bizarre rendering of LETS MAKE A DEAL I traded my home to complete strangers, but I get a lifetime supply of really scratchy huge rolls of paper towels. The only thing missing was Don Pardo.

 I decided to focus my wrath/anxiety/insanity on the paper towels and it got me through the night.

In honor of THE CLEVELAND INDIANS WORLD SERIES, I have provided a baseball comparison for scale. GO TRIBE