I booked over to the east side over to the hospital. You see, my mother was stuck at home because SHE was in the operating room on Monday, and thus was at home recuperating.
Here is the real reason I can never move out of NYC. No matter how much my mind has fluttered about it. Sorry Seattle.
Now, let's do the math here. Major diabetic. Eats light breakfast at 10 AM. Leaves for the hospital at 11:30, for a 1 PM appointment. It's now 3 PM after all is said and done, and he's all woozy and out of it.
5 hours. Barely anything to drink. Nothing to eat. *shakes head* The doctors look at him, say he looks dehydrated, and sends him to the emergency room across the street.
I run over, put a bottle of water in him, and a sandwhich. Bingo. Hi Dad! Nice to have you with us again.
Saved him from waiting another 4 hours just for them to put a bag of saline into him.
I gotta admit, this week has been hard on me. I am wracked with guilt, I'm tired, and... yeah.
I hate knowing I'm the cause of pain. It kills me.
No need to comment. Just venting. Just because.
