Those horns is a pretty apt metaphor. Life just seems to hand me these awful choices. Or I hand them to myself. Or I just have an unusually hard time dealing with "options." Shortly after meeting this man, many years ago, it was more than clear that he was a poor candidate for having as a life-partner. But we hit it off so extremely well, when I wasn't on the verge of killing him. Even when we stopped living together, we remained very close. When his health started to really deteriorate, about 8 years ago, I wanted to help him manage things that were getting difficult. I'ld pick up groceries and drop off laundry. He had such serious illnesses that it seemed he wasn't long for this world. That's what doctors thought and have been telling me. A few years ago, they advised me that "he should be a hospice client." (That's supposed to mean you have only 6 months to go.) If I knew - back in 2013 - that he had at least another 6 years to go, I probably would not have gotten so reinvolved. But I did, and it was a case of mission creep, thinking that I was making his last few months easier. Those few months have morphed into years.

Only Heaven above knows how long anyone has on this earth, but he keeps having one near-fatal illness after another. And he keeps recovering. Already he's been hospitalized 3 times this year. Each time, doctors tell me that the end is at hand and that he should get Paliative Care or Hospice. But they told me that over 2 years ago. Nobody wants to lose a friend as close as he's been to me . . . but, as a nurse, I have seen even parents get strung out keeping a "vigil" by the bed of a son or daughter, when the vigil becomes prolonged. Years of anticipatory grieving, combined with a relentless need for receiving near-total care, gets to be a drain. (He hasn't yet needed his meals spoonfed, but I do have to cut up his meat, like for a child. He no longer can walk.) This is not about "Look how much I do." I have gotten a ton of acknowledgement for that. This is about "Look how hard it is to step back, once you've stepped in." So I appreciate the "horns" metaphor. I know my options to pare down my commitment. I know all about nursing homes and how to get him into one. I was sort of picturing doing that after he, maybe, fell into a sort of a coma and wouldn't know the difference. Nothing like that is happening to make it easier for me. And I ask myself: "Why not?" Is there a Cosmic Force that just has to test us to the nth degree. I feel like a guinea pig in some sort of cosmic experiment: "Let's give her these very disagreeable options and see how long she squirms, before she caves in or goes nuts." My goal, presently, is to continue doing what I doing . . . without going nuts. But lately I've been acting "nuts." Way too irritable, impatient, burned out.

I wouldn't blame anyone for thinking: "What can we tell Rose that she hasn't already been told, repeatedly?" I guess I'm just venting.

The home attendant is here, so I better nap while I can. Last night I just didn't sleep. After getting used to taking Ritalin in the morning, I've run out a week ago. I can't seem to reach my pdoc to get a fresh script.