I wasn't intending this to be an on-going, perpetual blog, but I don't really have anywhere else to go, pathetic as that may sound.

I took one of my Vicodin tablets (10/365.) My neck is sore from reading. Also, I was hoping for a mood boost from it. That makes just 2 that I took all day today. I don't go nuts with this stuff.

I gave him hot dog and beans for supper and I didn't eat with him like I always do. I've stayed in the bedroom feeling bad. He seems to be doing okay out there by himself, watching TV. Usually, if I'm out of his line of sight for more than 7 minutes, he calls to know where I am and what I'm doing. This eve he knows I'm staying in the bedroom because I'm upset with him, so he's not calling for me, unless he needs something specific. Then I have to respond because he can't walk. His way of handling my being upset is to just wait for my negative mood to blow over. So he is just not trying to interact at all. That makes me even more mad.

He never, ever, ever says "This must be a lot on you." or "I'm lucky to have you." Everyone asks me if he knows how lucky he is. I have no idea. He's not one to worry. He lives in the moment and enjoys what is going well in the present. He doesn't reflect on how things might be different, for better or worse. What is - is. That's that. He will acclimate himself to whatever he can't change and that will be that. Warnings that I might leave mean nothing, absolutely nothing. He'll just say, "Okay then leave. Do what you want." His equanimity is not going to be rattled by any threat from me. And I have no business threatening him. Sometimes I get more mean than I have any right to be. I keep wanting him to be different. How ridiculous of me.

An awful lot of the time, I'm fine toward him. More than fine. Morning, noon and night - attending to every need and doing so in pretty good humor. And he's generally quite pleasant himself, living in his childlike world, very pleased with each good thing that comes his way. He's very positive. Tells me the morning coffee is delicious, when it's just instant. He just wants things to be nice. He'ld actually be quite nice to work for. The attendant seems very relaxed around him. He's always pleasant to her. He generally is to most everyone. I'm the crank. Mostly I'm not. But the quarrel this morning has unsettled me. He is utterly unconcerned that I am unsettled. That's what bugs me the most. Something I want him to do differently he won't do. He will stick to his habits come what may. If I stay upset and distant toward him, he will announce that he's going to do exactly whatever I want him to do. He'll say that so sweetly, and he believes he means it - in the moment. But he will do nothing that isn't exactly what he wants to do . . . absolutely nothing.

So I can arrange another "respite" placement. But then he deteriorates in the nursing home. I have to pick from a short list of facilities that aren't the best. Neither the VA nor Medicaid is going to pay for a stay in the nicer nursing homes.
(Even the crapholes cost over $2000/week.) Then my hard work of keeping him in good shape gets undone. So, after the respite, I get him back in worse shape.

So I want us to stay together as we are, but for him to go along with a change I want him to make that would be good for him. (I want him to stop sleeping sitting up in a chair in the living room. I want him to sleep in a bed. We have a normal large bed, and we have a hospital bed. But he sleeps in a chair. In the hospital or nursing home, he sleeps just fine in a bed. But not at home. I find him slumped over in the chair every night. Maybe it shouldn't bother me. That was the quarrel. I can't stand it. Maybe I'm wrong. But I don't care. It upsets me. He doesn't care that it upsets me. That's what really makes me nuts.) He won't budge. He-'ll do what he wants. Nothing I can do about that . . . . except to leave, if it bothers me that much. I hate that those are the two choices he gives me. I just hate it.

Maybe I'm insane that I so want him to do as I ask. But I can ask till I'm blue in the face. He won't even talk about it, or give me a reason. And he doesn't care that this bothers me terribly. Thar's my problem. What bothers me is none of his concern in the slightest.