Tuesday a.m.

"Interruptions are my work." You've heard me say that over and over again, quoting Henri Nouwen. Yesterday I had a full day of such work. I was doing what I do a little after 8 yesterday when Roger, my deaf neighbor called me on my phone. He "pocket dials" me occasionally, so I thought little of it. I listened for about a minute to see if I could discern anything that would indicate trouble. Nothing.

A few minutes later he sent a text, which he does sometimes. He just said, "Could use some help today." I replied, "What with?" trying to discern a time frame. No reply, so I go over to check on him.

When I walk in, he is not on the couch, where I usually find him. I walked into the living room and turned on the light. Then I saw him. He was slumped over in the kitchen, leaning against a wall, over a trash can. He had a pair of sleep pants on and then jeans over them. The jeans had fallen to his ankles. It was a pitiful sight. I thought he was puking but he wasn't.

I touched him. He barely moved and said, "My legs aren't working." We slowly straightened up, pulled his jeans up. He is so skinny that they had simply fallen down, even with his belt buckled. We walked to the couch and got him to sit. I told him I was taking him to the ER. Significantly, he barely nodded an "OK." No protest this time. I told him I needed to go home and do a couple of things.

Returning in about 5 minutes, I found him lying on the couch in his usual position: head totally covered with blankets. I pulled them back and mouthed, "Let's go." He said he wanted to wait and let his legs rest. I shook my head. He protested, "I can't walk." With that I signaled that I was going to carry him to the truck, and before he could protest, I picked him off the couch and carried his bony 90 pound frame to the truck. His psycho dog was protest, acting like he was going to bite me. Must have been quite a sight really.

As we made our way to the ER, I was afraid he was going to die. He was in bad shape. I was praying for him. Then I called his brother in St. Louis, telling him what was going on. This is the only family member that has contact with Roger. We got to the hospital and started unloading. One of their folks came out and helped.

They got him in and started doing all kinds of tests, while I was Roger's ears. The doc came in and talked about what he was finding etc. A little later on, early in the afternoon, the doc came back and pulled back the curtain, he had a mask and gloves on and was accompanied by two nurses who were masked, gloved, and gowned. He said, "He may have TB, so we are moving him to isolation. If he has it, then you have been exposed." Hmmm.

We moved rooms and were informed that Roger was going to be moved to Bloomington. I need to leave and got home about 3. Kedra and I were planning on going to Bloomington last night anyway, so we made our way to the hospital, where it took a long time for us to find Roger. We finally found him. I gowned, gloved, and masked up to go visit. (Does all that protection really matter at this point?)

I'm going back up this morning to check on him, after I check on his yappy dog that I do night like (ha ha). Stupid thing barks its head off, acts like it's going to bite me, and then lets me pet it. Psycho dog. I talked to Roger's brother a couple of more times, and he told me that they thought he had TB before, due to a spot on his lung, but they ruled it out. I think that will happen again this time; sure hope so.

I feel so sorry for Roger. He is alone and doesn't understand a lot of what is going on in the hospital. I advocated and interpreted for him yesterday. While I there waiting I managed to get a lot of stuff done. Having done the ER thing with Roger a time or two before, I knew to take my computer and a book or two. I got a 12 week sermon series planned and outlined, amongst other things.

The ER is an interesting place. During my extended stay yesterday I heard a lot of real life unfold. You can't help but hear stuff. I heard an angry guy, a very angry guy, cuss loudly for everyone to hear, about his dissatisfaction with the slowness of the ER. He was going to blankity blank (lots of F bombs - lovely) leave and go to the other hospital in town. Adios!

There was an exchange between the doctor and a lady who said she couldn't afford her medicine. Not taking the meds had led to her visit to the ER. The doctor said, "Do you smoke?" "Yes." "How much?" She told him, and it was alot. "How much do cigarettes cost?" She told him. He said, "You say you can't afford you meds, but you are spending more money than the meds cost on cigarettes." "Yes." "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, but I want you to see that you are making a choice here." Good job, Doc.