He’s just back from an overnight adventure, sleeping on a hammock in the campo (country).
He leans his head back, “I don’t feel well. Not well at all. . .Ohh. . .I may need you to get my syringe. I have this thing called Addison’s disease. . . I need the bathroom.”
He rests on the bottom step with leg cramps, makes it to the second floor bathroom, and I hear a crash behind its door.
I call my husband. When Marlo opens the bathroom door, John has regained consciousness. We find his syringe. While Marlo helps John, I Google Addison’s disease.
An adrenaline insufficiency, I learn.
And he’s definitely in Addison’s crisis: vomiting, diarrhea, fever, leg pain, slurred speech, fever.
Wikipedia says “dangerous” and “requires hospitalization.”
I show the list to Nathaniel, the only Hernandez at home.
Shall we call 911?
It would be quicker to take him ourselves, Nathaniel says.
He calls his mother. She arrives, along with two women from Forward Edge ministries. Two North American doctors from a nearby medical team soon show up,
They call John’s endocrinologist in East Baltimore. Yes, the hospital, he says. Blood work. Rehydration. . .
That was two hours ago.
After a later-than-usual supper, I have tried to return to my devotional reading, but my adrenaline is more than sufficient.
Overflowing, in fact.
And now that I have let it flow across cyberspace, I shall attempt to return to my reading.
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