No. Not the show. But the real thing.
The emergency room.
I was there today. And even though there wasn't a doctor nearly as good looking as George Clooney, it was pretty darn real.
I had to rush hubby to the ER for an infection in his arm, one that was life-threatening, according to the "quick" care doctor. And let me tell you, the whole day was nerve-wracking. Antibiotics. Lots of vials of blood. X-rays. Ultrasounds. Poking. Prodding. Talking. Sitting. Worrying.
He had a fever of 102.9. That is high, I don't care who you are. It went down a few degrees this afternoon, but by 8 p.m., it had climbed back up to 102.6. That scared me. The way his arm looks scares me. Swollen to three times its size. The way he lays there with no energy scares me. His lack of humor and smile scares me.
He's going to be ok. That's the important thing. But it's so hard to see him like this. My husband is a vibrant man, full of life and never one to sit down for long. He always has to be busy, always has to be doing something. And now that he's confined to a hospital bed, and he doesn't have the energy or motivation or health to do anything, it's incredibly hard to see.
I would love it if you could all send lots of prayers for us. I would really, really appreciate it.
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