He's pretty much conch bound and loopy. He can't keep track of anything and doesn't know what day it is or even what time it is. He can't cook, or wash his clothes. I have no idea whether he's getting any food besides what his next door neighbor is feeding him. When I was there yesterday, he told me what he had eaten and drinking the assure, which he really like, but what about today? I need to know who the person who is that is injecting him with his antibiotics. This person is suggesting that Ron goes into a hopise. This is all well and good, but isn't that where you go to DIE? Why not the convansiont hospital?
Mr. Traffic does need help. His leg is leaking like crazy, into the carpet. I think I know how he got the infection. I want to talk to that person, and I want meals on wheels to come out everyday. Unfortunately Mr. Traffic is in no condition to tell me any of this stuff. I guess I'm going to have to leave a note on his door for the care giver.
I went over there tonight to feed the cat, but Mr. Traffic never woke up when I knocked or even phoned him, so I just snuck in and fed Fuffer and snuck out again. I feel so quity about not waking him up, but I was afraid of scaring him and he was sleeping so soundly. . .
Is he dieing?
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