So eventually Dad was admitted to the hospital. By the time I went to visit to bring him his glasses at 9:30 he still didn't have his breakfast. Unfortunately, he didn't ultimately get it until 11. However, they seem to know that he's there now. There's even a chance that he'll get lunch some day. Some one from nephrology came around and said that he could have dialysis there, but he hadn't heard any further. I told him that judging from our previous hospital experiences, he was waiting for somebody from Transport to come to wheel him from there to there. (Everything takes forever in hospitals.) Anyway, the probability is that he'll be there another day. If we could just get them to send him home in an ambulance and have the EMS guys take him in using the fireman carry (since the stretcher never fits through the doors), my worries would be over. Because obviously my greatest fear is getting him home and having him just keel over again. But it's more like a nightmare than any legitimate fear.
The funny thing that happened last night wasn't really funny; we just were stressed out so just about anything can hit you funny. When we arrived, we saw somebody in one of the wards of the ER who was old, Caucasian, male, white-haired and otherwise looked nothing at all like Daddy. The only thing that was funny was that both Margaret and I were absolutely convinced that we were looking at Dad. (Later we saw the guy closer up and we were even more astonished that we could have mistaken them for each other.)
An unusual thing (at least in my experience) is that a prison inmate was in another of the wards. He had a full panoply of guards and they had to take shackles off for him to be examined. Margaret kept bumping her chair into the door. The guards would pull the curtain and look out to check, no doubt to make sure it wasn't part of a cunning escape plan. (It was.)
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