It seems that I won't get a chance to say goodbye to him after all. I wish he could have gone home; I wish we could have taken him home in July when we were there. Now, they don't think he'd survive the move.
It's awful and sad. He so wants to be able to die at home in his own bed. It's such a small thing, and it makes me heartsick that he can't have that.
We're readying ourselves to head up north.