A winter storm has blown in, high winds, swirling crackling leaves, rain. I think there was some hail earlier, battering the awning over the west window.

At 6:45 p.m., N called me, in an altered mental state. He thought he was in our old house, there were people there, 911 had been called, ambulance was coming, he wanted me to get the police. When I asked him how he got out of the VA, he said he wasn't sure, couldn't remember. (Remember, this is a man who can barely move from bed to wheelchair some days).

I started to get dressed to go out (enabler rushes to the rescue), and then bethought myself of the list of phone numbers for the care facility he's in. I started calling. On a Sunday evening, no one answered--"Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

And then one of them had as part of their message the number to the front desk (49991), which mercifully is manned (womanned) 24/7.

Someone answered, a live person. She said he was there, in his room and he was OK. I said are you sure and that I'd hold; please go and check. She was gone a while and when she came back she said he was having a fantasy. That's one word for it; not the one I'd have used, but I guess it's an effort to downplay the hallucinations.

Now my mental state is altered (I'm good during a crisis; after it's all over is when I fall apart). I'm trembling and crying and completely shaken up. (Thankfully I had the wit to call to confirm before going out in the storm). That's why I write--to get it out, air it out, let it go. Calm down.

Thanks. I feel better now. (Even the wind has abated).

So what is it? Not a Full Moon. A New Moon does this? Charming.