Michael is holding his own. Doing fairly well. I’m irritated at the world. I still hate all these people in my house and I am sick of them all talking to me like I’m a child. I am the type of person who doesn’t take that and my son Michael said to me, “Gulp hard mom, gulp hard.” in an effort to get me to hold my tongue. Tongue holding is not something I do. In fact, it’s completely what I DON’T do.

I tell hospice he needs something and they don’t respond. Two weeks later they will leave a note for me that he needs what I said he needed two weeks before.

Yesterday my caregiver yelled that the kids made noise in the morning. Then she yelled when I came home late because I didn’t call. I had been out of the house 16 hours, I am sick and traffic and rail service was horrible. The day before I had been home to work but did everything for Michael while she sat there. Then she yelled at ME the next day? WHAT? It took everything I had not to scream at her. I don’t want any of these people in my house. I want my life back. I want to stop swallowing all the feelings I have about all of this.

I want my life back. The one where my husband is not dying. The one where these people are not in my house. My life. The one where I can tell people to jump off the roof when they say something I don’t like. That life. I want it back.

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