Neverending crisis never ends

    I did in the end persuade Dad and Margaret not to set the themostat at 76 degrees and to accept a humidifier and I got him a knit cap to help him survive the rigors of 72 degrees. But he still feels shortness of breath and still thinks he's dying. He declines to wait and see if the humidifier helps. The cardiologist on call said that he could either see the doctor tomorrow afternoon or go to the ER. He wants to go to the ER. I apologized, but asked him please to ask my brother William. I've already done my ER run, where you get to wait hours, get no help, then have to go home. I feel terrible guilt, I feel like a terrible son, but I just can't do it anymore. I'm glad at least that he's finally listening to me at least a little. (Did I mention that the nurse at dialysis also told him that he needed the thermostat lower, to wear a sweater when he's cold and to use a humidifier and he didn't believe her either?) I hope the ER can help him; my guess is that giving him some IV fluids would fix him up shortly, but whether they're willing is another question. I'm still standing by if needed.