After arriving home from Rick's latest doctor's appointment, I reminded him that he was to go straight to the family room and put his feet up. His leg is swollen and the only way to get the liquid out is to elevate it.
He hobbled to his favorite chair in front of the TV. When I didn't see his leg go up, I scolded him and told him to get that leg up NOW! He complained that the only place he could put his leg up was the recliner... and that was bad for his back. True, true. So given all of that, I told him to pull the coffee table up to the lower chair he was now in and rest his leg on that.
A short while later I began to hear moans and yelps and sighs. I knew it was hurting him to raise his leg up to the coffee table. But the moans continued. And continued. And there was grumbling and cursing. Finally, I'd had enough.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING????"
"Just what you said to. I'm elevating my leg." And I looked over and saw his leg raised into the air, hoisted up onto a tall pub table that we have in the family room. The coffee table still sat in the center of the room untouched.
"I said, on the coffee table."
"This IS the coffee table. I drank my coffee on this table just this morning."