They Tried To Make Me Go To Rehab...

This flying by the seat of my pants does not work well. I don't like it. But who cares what I like these days. The moral of this story is we all want Jason better. But getting better comes in stages. The crazy Las Vegas stage we are almost out of. It still happens! Just not as often as before. He is heavily sedated. "Calm" as they say. Sometimes they try to attribute this calm to his "new" natural personality for which I look at them sideways and we end the discussion by admitting the calm is because of the meds.

His IV drips have been discontinued. Everything that was constant infusion, are being transferred over to more bolus and injection style application. This is all in preparation for the next big step.

Rehab.

Jason doesn't speak. He lost his ability to swallow. He does not recognize me. He lays in bed most days and stares off into space. Rolls his eyes in the back of his head and does these movements that any other person not versed on his condition or in the medical field would look at perplexed. His motions are not his own. It is the malfunction in his brain caused by the disease and the swelling. When they begin to subside these things will become less and less until eventually he wakes up one day as Jason.

When I walked in here Jason was talking to me and texting on his phone. When they walk in and tell me how good he looks, I smirk at them. A smirk that says a million words at one time, none of them in agreement. Yes, he is better. Better than yesterday. But by what measure are we asking if he is better? Better as in closer to the day we walked in here? No. I even tested it by putting his cellphone in his hand, and I watched it fall through his bony fingers. But better than yesterday and so we need to discuss moving to another place where new doctors and nurses will handle him and help me.and I have to find a new uncomfortable chair.

I wish I could just take him home. I wish I could have a nurse take care of him twelve hours and I can go to work and come back and take care of all my kids in one place. But even if I could afford it right now he is too sick for that. They did say if I could afford it he could eventually receive care that way. But he is not yet at that place, and I still can't afford that. 

Now with the three brain cells I have left. The lazy one that forgets to breathe, the emotional one that makes me cry all the time, and the angry one that makes me run my mouth off when I am pissed I have to figure out what Rehabs/Nursing Homes are good for him and his condition. How do you make those phone calls? What do you say? I have no idea what I am doing.