Friday and not nearly all is done that should be. I'm so behind on so many things I'm beginning to feel overwhelmed. We did get Mike's shoes fixed with velcro this morning. Hopefully he can learn to put them on with his right hand. My one-armed grandfather was able to get into and out of his shoes by himself, but he didn't have to deal with a brace on a paralyzed leg. He left his shoes loosely tied so he could just slip his feet in and out of them. If Mike could/would just learn to dress himself, it would help me. I hate to accuse a stroke victim of not wanting to recover, he is so obstinate sometimes, I think he'd just rather I do it for him. And I'm tired of doing it for him. I'm tired of helping him bathe, emptying his urinal, picking up used tissues from the floor. I'm tired of going to therapy with him. I'm tired of his tv on all day. I'm tired of his temper tantrums. I'm tired of his criticism, his negativity, his anxiety, his impatience, his obscene language.

I heard the relief workers on the coast being described as having compassion fatigue since Katrina. Maybe that's what I've got. It's been 18 months since his stroke, and I'm bone tired. I don't feel the compassion for him that I used to feel. I did feel sorry for him today when Journey's "Anyway you want it" came on the radio. "Greenhill sings the crap out of that song," he said, " and I learned that solo note for note." God, how I wish he could play his guitar again. He started crying. The very next song was "The Day the Music Died." He kept crying. My anger and resentment seem to melt when that happens.

It doesn't happen as much as it used to, but today he's feeling a little vulnerable. Our insurance will not fund anymore therapy until Dr. Tipton issues new orders. We've requested them, but so far, he hasn't. His attitude about therapy is not very encouraging. Rather than believing Mike is capable of progress, he thinks he could do as well for himself by working out at the Y. Having to depend on the help of others as much as he does has really been hard on Mike. His motivation and initiative took severe hits when he was disabled, and I'm not sure how much longer I can prop him up.

I've got to get help for myself - hire a handyman, a housecleaner, take a break. Medicaid just informed me that we will have to set up a trust for Mother because her income is over the limit. It's not over the limit except in those months when her renter is late and pays for 2 months in one. To be fair, Medicaid should take an average, but for some reason, that's too difficult for them. I'm too tired to fight with them today.

Mike just walked through my office complaining about Mick being outside. I picked up the squirt bottle I use to break up dog fights, and squirted him with it. Expletive, expletive, expletive. I kept squirting. He finally hushed and left. Mick is our new cat and is plenty capable of defending himself from anything he might encounter outside. Give it a rest!!!