Whew! I finally let Mike in on my plans, and I feel so much better. We were eating lunch at McAlister's after church, so he stayed calm. He did say once that he would not allow me to go, then realized he couldn't stop me, and began to ask about what would happen to him while I'm gone. He also told me I would have to make arrangements for his help. I told him he was going to do that, and he has 6 weeks to do it.

When we got home, I refused to help him undress and dress. He was able to do it all except the left shoe, and with daily practice, he can do that, I have no doubt. He cursed, then I told him that he would thank me one day for having more confidence in him than he had in himself, and he started laughing. I think the idea of having to depend on Ron for a week to help with bathing and dressing will be a strong motivator in his working toward more independence. I told him to think of it as a modified version of tying his right hand behind his back to make his left hand move, which is a therapeutic method used with some stroke patients. "Just consider me as your right hand, and I'm tied up," I told him. "That forces your working hand to do more than it's used to." The key will be thinking things through, taking his time, and not getting in a hurry.

To help with the pets, I'm considering installing a pet door, so they can come and go as they please. If I put it in the window by the back door, that will help contain them. I think he will be happier with all the pets here, rather than boarded. It will give him something to do and some company, and save money, too.

When he asked me how I planned to pay for this trip, I told him I could take it out of my IRA. I'll be 59 & 1/2 by the end of May, so I can finally make withdrawals without paying a penalty.

O God, I hope this works. That case of cold feet I got yesterday was no fun. The thin ice I skate on with Mike's health began to thaw and all I could see was a calamity.

The other secret that I may not tell him about ever is that I bumped the back-end of a Jag at church Weds. night. It belonged to one of the Beth Israel ladies working at their bazaar. It didn't dent her bumper, but it did scratch the paint. I left my name and number for her to call, and she did. When I called her back her husband answered the phone in the rudest manner imaginable, thinking I was a bill collector for the hospital. When I told him I had insurance information for his wife's car, but I would hang up if he insisted, he started apologizing and it turned out to be a hilarious conversation. Now, if I can just get Tony to keep his mouth shut. I'm becoming more like my mother everyday.

The time change last night left me feeling sleep-deprived. Believe I'll take a nap.