Then late Monday night we had a phone call from Sister-in-law who was at the hospital having been summoned. By morning F-i-l had rallied but Husband wanted to go and see him anyway so off we set (having dumped George on our long-suffering friends).
By the time we got to see him F-i-l was much perkier (I suspect seeing Husband did him a lot of good) and much like his old self. Which isn't particularly well but not at death's door. In fact, he was back to causing trouble: they've had to put sensors on his mattress to alert the nurses if he tries to get out of bed on his own. His right leg isn't working as it should and, heaven knows, he fell over enough before this latest attack. Naturally he insists he's fine and can manage and can get out - and then falls over.
He's going to need a lot of therapy and rehab before he's able to go home alone again but that's his aim. Whether he'll achieve it is yet to be seen.