Now he's been raging at me for the past four hours. We ended up only getting bread and milk. He's furious about that. He's furious that I "treated him like an invalid." He's furious that he "dared to ask me to get off my ass and do something and I refused." The worst part? He keeps repetitively informing me that he is going to have a heart attack from getting upset, and it is entirely my fault for "riling him up." According to him, his emotions are entirely under my control, and it is my fault that he is raging.
He's been off and on holding his chest. He won't take his nitro. He swears his chest doesn't hurt. He can't wait till his doctor appointment tomorrow, when the doctor is apparently going to tell me how I am going to cause him to drop dead. He flatly refuses to accept apologies, calm talk, being ignored or anything else. He likes the feeling of power, it's the same one he gets when his blood sugar is 50 and he refuses to eat because I've wronged him somehow.
Meanwhile I'm still nauseous and rather dizzy. But why should my medical condition matter? It never has before. It's all about Andy.