First, I had my son take me to the h ospital in Bandon. They poked and prodded me, agreed something was wrong, but wanted to give me some antibiotics and send me home. My son and grandson raised all kinds of hell, and one nurse listened to them, checked the hole in my toe and found a source of infection that had turned sepsis. They needed to see if the infection had hit the bones and didn't have the right kind of equipment. They sent me to Grants Pass. (the ambulance driver had made 9 trips that day ( was the 9th--) and he drove like a race-driver on back roads over t he mountain to Grants Pass. They were doing morphine and some other things to me...I wasn't mentally there. I drifted in and out and remember telling them to quit giving me laxatives and it would solve part of the problem. One doctor insisted on keeping me there til I levelled out. Then they shipped me out to Brookings to a nursing home/rehab. It was quite a three months, and I don't ever want to do it again.