This is the very first night in more than three months that he has slept in his own bed, and damnit is he annoying about it. You'd think it wasn't as pleasant a change from a hospital bed, the way he bitches about getting in it and where the wheel chair should go and not there, no the wheels are not going in the right direction and why won't you listen to me? For crying out loud.
It's tough. We've been prepared for this - that the end of the day, especially one in which he would be doing a lot, getting worn out, would be much harder than earlier in the day. That his lucidity would decline as the day went on, and also as the months etc went on. What a bitch this is.
He weighs less than I do now, which for some reason I find to be particularly upsetting, but that is more my neuroses than it is indicative of his state. He looks thin. Mom looks thin. They both look exhausted.
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