Hating the Night Call

The phone rings. It's 10 here, but 1 a.m. in Florida. There are limits to how good this call can be. The upside of its downside, however, is terrific.

But the call could be worse. My wife's mom is throwing up her medicines, of which there are several, some to be given at specific intervals, some to be given at intervals depending on when my mother-in-law has last eaten. Her medications are a three-ring circus without a ringmaster.

If she throws up, which she is doing today, it is impossible to know which medicines should be administered again.

But at the moment the eye of the storm has arrived. It is 1 a.m. in Florida, and my mother-in-law is sleeping, not having eaten properly and possibly not having been medicated properly.

When she wakes up tomorrow, decisions must be made. Pack her up and take her back to the hospital against her will? My mother-in-law has a very strong will.

I am not there to help with the decision. I am here to tell my wife that whatever decision she makes it will be the correct decision.

And it will.