Well he's been released again today and im back where I started... looking over old notes and listening to tapes, wondering how bad I potentially messed up this time. The wounds seem to be healing and he seems to be getting along, but as appendages, and I know he seems fine, seems can be a very dangerous word, especially in this business, it could be fatal. initial diagnoses, catatonic, I know he s back there somewhere but there s just no response whatsoever to any kind of stimulus. We ll start in with medication tomorrow im sure. This mans tragedy has made him a prisoner in his own body, and its not just tragedy. Its dementia, despair... it s this hole i can see in each of his eyes. For all the events that happened in this real world kind of just fall through. Its loneliness in its most crippling form. The kind that no amount of love or human contact could ever mend. The patient was plagued by violent nightmares, terrible deeply troubled dreams which one night overflowed into reality... he murdered his wife in his sleep. These people were in love... deeply in love, and it was that love filling those holes I can now see among his eyes. And it s my job to try to fill those holes with something else, but with what? Hope? I can fill those holes with drugs, soothing words, but that s a lie. And I hope his wounds will heal with time, but right now... things aren t looking good... the lines I wear around my wrists are there to prove that I exist