The deterioration that I noticed at the end of last week has continued. Michael seems to be slipping in so many different ways. He seems terribly confused and nods off all the time.

Yet, he’s still the sweetest man he’s always been….when he wakes up after nodding off he looks over and winks at me. When I ask him if he needs anything, he says “No it’s okay hun.” And when I give him something to eat, he says “Everything you make is so good. Thanks.” And his eyes look scared and tired at the same time. And my heart breaks.

I stopped at the store on the way home and I no longer try to take him in the store with him. He naps in the car while I go in the store.

I was very detached from the other shoppers. I simply don’t care about smiling or even looking people in the eye. The women who have the sample trays try to get my attention but I don’t even look their way. I move past the deli counters and the bakery counters and don’t even acknowledge the people behind them.

If someone was in front of me I could hear my head shouting at them, “I’m SAD!!! I’m SAD!!! Get out of my way!!! I’m SAD!!!” The angriest sad you’ve ever heard. If the words were expressed instead of just banging around in my head, everyone would duck and cover.

I am either screaming in my head about how sad I am or I am feeling as if I’m underwater and not quite in the same world as people around me who are leading normal lives.

My emotions track Michael’s progress. When he is doing well, I can almost pretend it’s not happening and just enjoy him and enjoy being with him. When he’s having a tough time, I find myself in some bizarre angry/sad world. I’m sad but I would like to smash a million plates and scream and scream and never stop screaming. I feel as if I can’t quite access the sheer horror of the depth of my grief.

For now I have to just keep going and let things float up as they will.

I do not think about what else I would like to be doing. I don’t think about a night out or a movie or going to the gym. I am completely dedicated to just being there for Michael and doing what I need to do for him. It’s exhausting but he deserves everything I can possibly do for him and I want to know I’ve done my best.

What I did notice in the store today was that even though I’m with him 24 hours a day, I feel alone when I’m shopping by myself and later when I’m hauling the groceries up the stairs by myself. I push it down and don’t think about it. Because when I think about it, it makes me angry/sad.

He asked for bar b que chicken wings and macaroni salad for dinner. I spent the afternoon making them and brought them to him in the living room. I checked in with him an hour later and the dish was untouched. His appetite has been strong and the doctors have been happy about that. I worry that it will decrease and he will get weak. I want him to eat. He refuses three or four other things that I suggest including pie and ice cream. The refusal makes me sad.

I ask him if he needs anything and he says, Yes, a blanket.

So I cover him up with a blanket and he closes his eyes. I turn off the lights and softly walk up the stairs to my room.

Alone.

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