Will wonders never cease? My dad's doctor called us today.
My dad's white count is still elevated.
The nurse said, "Has he been feeling sick? Like with cold symptoms?"
I said, "You're joking, right? He was just discharged from the hospital six days ago!"
She was unaware.
Long story short, the doctor, in his infinite wisdom (ha!), decided to readmit my dad to the hospital. Direct to the floor. Do not pass ER. Do not collect $200.
We got here at about 5:00 PM. It's now 11:00 PM. They've taken blood. They've done blood gasses. They've done an EEG & an x-ray. They're playing around with his PICC line, because they aren't able to withdraw blood from it . . . though it is flushing just fine.
I asked whether another antibiotic has been ordered, and was told that though his white count is still elevated, nothing has been ordered. Doctor has ordered consults, however . . . probably because he, himself, is utterly fucking clueless.
My dad asked me to call his mother and his son, and against my better judgement, I acquiesced.
I wish I hadn't.
Said son showed up here, and not far behind him were two of my dad's sisters, no doubt called by their mother.
The evil witch sounded completely disgusted to be hearing from me. His son barely looked at me, much like his sisters. Then they all made sure to get along peachy keen with one another while pretending I wasn't there.
They even talked about his son's son -- a.k.a. my nephew, who is 2 and whom I've never met.
That there's a tale for another post . . . specifically one not written on my cell phone. Because however cool my cell is, it cannot replace a full-sized keyboard.
I just type better when I'm using all my fingers, I suppose.
Right now, I need food and sleep. In that order.
And I'm going home to get both.