This morning I had to take Al into the primary care physician’s office, so he could have his lab work done for refills on his medications. This was at nine am. He was not allowed to have any food or drink after midnight. Usually, after this is done, we go to his favorite restaurant and have breakfast, but we could not do this today. We came back home and waited an hour. While he was watching TV, I sneaked into the kitchen and had a few bites of easy food, as I didn’t want him to see me eating, knowing he could not eat yet. He had an appointment with the oral surgeon to be sedated and have three teeth pulled. He did alright with his lab work. He even did alright on the trip to the dentist. We heard his name called and we both went back to the special sedating room. They checked his blood pressure and I heard them say several times they could not get a reading. I already knew this from past visits to doctors. His tremors won’t allow the blood pressure to be taken right away. We have to wait until the tremors rest, which is at their discretion. The pre-surgury testings went alright, and then they asked me to leave. The procedure of putting him to sleep was started and the teeth were pulled. In no time at all, they called my name, and I went back to where he was. I heard them talking about his foot, and they spoke of their concerns. I walked in on the conversation, and asked them what they were speaking of. They showed me his one toe where the nail was half gray. They told me that he barely had a pulse in his foot, and his complete foot was cold. Now I am no doctor, but being in the medical field for over twenty years, I knew what they were talking about. They told me I needed to make an appointment with his doctor to have this checked out. I told them he has an upcoming appointment for lab checks next Tuesday. Should I make another one sooner? They said we could wait until the set appointment. I can not force myself to say aloud, let alone, write the fears that I had at that moment, and I am still thinking on them now. I guess I have to leave you to your own conclusions to this. The nurses had great problems getting him out of the dental chair, as I knew they would. With his weakness from his Parkinson’s and the sedation still lingering, his feet would not move. This started a whole new ball game of wild tears and swearing. He could not understand why his feet stood firmly in place. With much patience they finally placed him in a wheel chair. At first, they wanted me to get his cane out of the car for him to walk. I am not sure what I said, but I do remember basically telling them they were crazy if they thought he could walk with the help of his cane. They rolled him out to the car and it took three of us to sit him properly in his seat. Then all of a sudden his memory came back to the primary care doctor’s office. They had weighed him and since March he has lost eleven pounds. He is worried because he knows this is because he is dying. The nurses left me to attend to this matter, as I am sure they have no experience in actual life and death situations. We go home, Al crying constantly, and gauze hanging out of his mouth, instead of staying in tact inside. I got ahold of my family and told them we were almost home, and they helped me get him inside the house and we laid him down on the couch. This is not a good time for him or for me. He is totally confused, and screaming at me that they took the wrong teeth out. He is trying to put his fingers in his mouth. I tell him not to do this, as he has stitches, but he is not listening to me at all. He is sobbing. I think that I have never seen so much sobbing. He is telling me I don’t care over and over. I keep telling him I do care, and if he could just try to relax and nap some, he will feel much better when he awakes. He is hitting himself from frustration and tightening his fist. He just is totally confused. At this point, I am confused. I feel like a dumb old woman who has thought all this time, that I can handle any situation in life that is dealt to me. I can not get him to quit crying, nor can I get him to stop screaming and swearing. I am still confused from the conversation I over heard and the sight that I saw on his one foot. I know too much and yet I know too little. I am at my wit’s end, and inside I am now screaming at God to take him home. Make his suffering stop right now. I don’t want to hear anymore reasonings on why he is still here, or maybe God is teaching me something through Al’ pain. I don’t want to hear anymore! I want this pain to stop for the two of us. Please, Al, slow down the breathing, and take a nap.