After the bloodbath from Graham's nose, our quick return to the ER and a hospital stay, Graham was able to come home Tuesday. Everything came back negative; no pneumonia, no flu, and nothing grew out of his many cultures. But since Dr. Garcha has absolutely no clue what he is doing (this is the Dr. that asked, "How do you want to die?") he kept running test after test, unable to find anything that stuck out. Even the spot, former nipple hopeful, had not grown. So, with a fresh new batch of antibiotics, they sent him packing.
His return, though exciting, did not go well. Wednesday he struggled to get out of bed. Every time he did, he was gasping for air and having panic attacks. Thursday was even worse. I got a text that he was unable to move, he was thirsty, hungry, had to go to the bathroom and could not muster the mental strength to do any of it. He was so afraid to move and that he'd have another attack with no one at home, and he wouldn't make it. He was crying, I was crying, so I went home. We were able to take care of immediate needs, but the rest of the day was still horrible.
If this continued Friday, we would call the Dr. The fear is that it was over. They would make him "comfortable" and we'd pray he'd make it until Christmas.
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