He had one earlier this year (maybe his first, maybe his second).  I was able to go out there for a week once  he got out of the hospital to help him get ready to be home alone and to get him hooked up with the various social services.

Granted, I don’t yet know anything, but I have a feeling that this time things won’t go as smoothly.

Once again, being out of state, it sucks.  Unfortunately, he lives in an odd part of the state, where his street lives on three different counties.  So typically, its up to whoever to decide which county they want to consider it.  This paramedic and ambulance decided that he’s in one county, so he’s now being sent to a different hospital than last time (in particular, a county that he’s not getting his social services through).  Ugh!

Here’s hoping that the doctors will talk to me since I’m out of state.  He’s too out of it to be able to tell them himself and I never got around to getting him a living will and all that stuff.

Okay, nothing else to say.  Not that I even said all that much.  Hell, I’m not so sure I can even really think straight.  I hate this shit.