Leaving the hospital is more of a blur than reality, although I'm sure it happened, I'm in a fog trying to figure out how my axis flipped. Following the boxy ambulance, as we make the three-hour drive to Charleston, I ensure I never lose them. The driver was clear, if there's a problem, if Moby needs medical attention they can't provide, they will go to the nearest hospital. If I'm not behind them, I could be halfway to Orangeburg before I know they've detoured.
I send up a silent prayer when I look at the gas gauge. The full tank is about the only positive thing I have going for me. Since the doctor had already postponed the ambulance to wait for me to get to the hospital, they didn't wait to allow me to go home to pack a bag. I have nothing-no money, no purse, no clothes-for an undetermined amount of time in a city I've only vacationed in. I'll figure out what to do about necessities after I know Moby is safe.