It's too damn soon

Mom is on a midnight run for bandages trying to keep monshu. I am exhausted beyond coherence. 24 hours ago I was puking my guts up. I've slept maybe five hours since then. I feel like I was on the phone a hundred times today. I'm amazed I lost my cool only twice. The liaison who fucked everything up apologised to me like a million times this morning. "I will fix this," she said. She has fixed nothing. We are getting the half rails monshu needs tomorrow because of what I did. If we finally get the Old Man's wound care sorted tomorrow, it will be because I called the surgeon. I am so tired right now I can't even feel anger. But if I see one of those responsible for this mess at the hospital tomorrow, I don't know what I'm capable of saying to them.