I'm scared. Today I saw Paul, one week since the last visit, emaciated now, dying.
Right now as I type he is being picked up, taken to a nearby hospital with severe dehydration.
I got mad. Why didn't you tell me how bad he looked. Why won't his bed go up so he can take a sip of the shake I brought him ("his bed is broken" get a new one I said "the maintenance man is out. We'll see if there's a spare"). His eyes are glazed. He's dying I think.
So I get mad. The nursing home, who was going to wait to do his lab tests on Monday finally calls and he will have his blood taken today. But 5 hours later. Then, they say there will be a 2 to 3 hours wait for results.
That was at 3pm today. I wanted to punch a wall. But there is a procedure to getting the tests. At least I sped it up by a half a day. If we'd waited til tomorrow he could be dead with his sodium at this critical level, which means he is severely dehydrated.
Now it's 11pm. No one to call to watch my son. So I wait at home to hear if he's reached the ER and then I will call and let the the hospital know that someone, who can't make it to the hospital because they have a young sleeping son, loves this person. Please, take care of him.