The Old Man Died

We visited him almost every day last week, and he was steadily making progress.  On Thursday a caseworker called and informed me that since he wasn't a Kaiser member, they would need to transfer him once he was stable enough for the move.

By Friday, they decided that he was well enough to be moved.  But they found the worst hospital possible for him, no matter what I said, the caseworker insisted that there were no other hospitals with available ICU beds.  I specifically said to her, "I'm afraid that once he gets transferred to that hospital, he won't make it out alive."

We visited him on Sunday at the dinky hospital, and he seemed to be better.  He was finally breathing on his own, and was awake enough to have some verbal communication.  Yet this morning we got a call from the hospital, informing us that his heart rate dropped and they did everything they could, but he passed away.

I'm sad and angry, and can't stop wondering that if I had tried harder to find him a better hospital, maybe he would still be alive.

Everyone around me has been very supportive.  They remind me that when a person's time is up, there isn't much others can do.  I know that, I really do.  I know that death is only the beginning.  I also know that God is good and what happened to the old man was God's will.  Still, I can't shake feeling the way I do now.