"Thank you, sir"

Apparently Michael cared as little about the Bears-Vikings game tonight as the rest of the country. He woke up mid-way through the second quarter and listened to me ramble about the game without commenting. After about ten minutes he told me, "Alright, I'm ready to leave", and started fiddling with his IV's. I told him to stop and explained that he couldn't leave. He looked at me like I was a moron, and said "but I'm going to leave right here (pointing at his bed)." I said, "Oh, sleep", to which he said yeah and told me to "just turn it down." I got up and turned down the volume on the TV. He rolled over on his side and said "thank you, sir", before letting out a long exhale. Michael and I both say "thank you, sir" to each other on a regular basis. He said it in the same manner he's always said it.

It's amazing how something as small as this makes my day.

Thank you, sir.