I was trying to remain positive, to think myself through to the end. Handing him over to them AGAIN so he could be anethestized made me cry.
I havnt even mentioned that they think he may have had a small stroke because it hasnt effected him cognitivly and the rest is all just physical therapy, baby, more and more of the same. No, I shrugged off the stroke with just a slight bewilderment that my life has come to the point where I shrug off strokes.
But today, when someone finally came to look at his neck. It was The Straw. His neck is not brokendown. It is infected by the flesh-eating staph. On his neck. And just centimeters away from his freshly-cracked chest.
I am terrified. I want to curl in a little ball and cry all night. I want to find the nurse (and I know exactly which one it is) who did a really crappy job cleaning him. I want to hurt her. I want to hurt myself because I saw her do a crappy job and I didnt call her on it or have a fit.
The good news for today is that Face probably isnt in a lot of pain. He is so very badly dehydrated that he has been unresponsive for the past 8 hours.
I. Fucking. Hate. This. Goddamn. Place.