Yesterday, I assisted Tom into the shower, sat him safely down on his shower chair, and made sure he had everything he needed to bathe. As I was changing the bedding and dusting the dry skin off the surroundings, I heard him say he was ready to get out. I asked him to wait a few more minutes, and he said he couldn't. He said he was dizzy, and then his speech became a little slurred. I opened the shower door and saw him wobbling, and as white as a ghost. He said he couldn't see anything except shapes. I got down right in front of him and asked if he could see me and he looked off to the side of my face. By this time it was apparent that he was having a seizure: he was completely unintelligable, he couldn't move, he leaned against the shower wall in his seat, he lost control of his bladder.
I called 911 and soon after, about 10 people were in my house, half in my bathroom, and the other half flowing out into my bedroom. I have never understood why 911 always sends firemen and paramedics. Nor do I understand why I have to answer duplicate questions for each team. I also don't know why it took 20 minutes for five burly men to get Tom, only 145 lbs, out of the shower, onto a gurny, and into the ambulance!
He was admitted late last night (he arrived in ER at 4:00). I haven't been able to talk to a doctor. He made his rounds shortly after I stepped out to make a quick trip to the post office. Tom doesn't remember was the doctor said. The kind nurse isn't sure what's happening (I have trouble understanding her heavy British accent). All I know is that he is being seen by five doctors, one being a neurologist, and another, a doctor specializing in infectious diseases. The nurse was able to tell me that the reason he is in the Urgent Neurological Care wing is that there weren't enough beds elsewhere. She said that he will be spending another night but on a different floor.
Now, brace yourselves for the photo. He looks like a burn victim. When I had him take a shower Friday night, he had little scabs and red bumps and splotches. When he took off his long-sleeve shirt before getting in the shower yesterday, my jaw dropped open. He had been scratching and picking at his blisters (from shingles) so bad that it had formed one huge, crusty, deep purple scab. I could not believe what I was looking at. I poured a little hydrogen peroxide on it after his shower and it bubbled over like a science experiment.
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