Who needs skin, anyway?

So, I spent the day at my grandmother's house, since her boyfriend's skin had to be removed from his right calf due to a surgery to prevent the spread of a flesh-eating bacteria he seems to have picked up vacationing in Canada a couple of weeks ago and the two were in desperate need of assistance. At the moment, his muscles are covered by what essentially looks like a sort of Saran wrap with an attached small vacuum tube to get rid of excess fluid. It's quite disgusting, really.

The first idiot nurse had said that extensive home care wouldn't be necessary, and that my grandmother could care for it on her own. Just holding the man's leg was going to be one person's job, but one person could do all of the cleaning and rebandaging alone. Right. So they had to find a doctor or supervisor who was available and who would override the first decision and get him approval to enter a nursing home for a few weeks until it is manageable at home. At 4:30 they finally got the approval from the doctors to take him to a place in Tarzana, so my mom helped my grandmother get him into her car, and his son followed in his car to meet them there and help him get settled. We got there around 10:30 this morning, and didn't leave until about 5:00.

My poor grandmother is feeling quite upset and frustrated by all this, since she used to be a nurse but has been retired for about twelve years and can't really perform the duties needed anymore. She and Dale have been living together for about three years now, and while I was never much a fan of him (he's just a bit boring, nothing bad; I've just never gotten close to him), my grandmother is very happy to have him in her life. They're both holding up as best they can, but it's been and will continue to be rough. My poor dad can't get off work to go be with her, but Mary, my aunt, should be flying down to be with them Sunday, which is good.