It was 4:30 before the doctor came to sign the discharge order for Mike. It was about 5:30 when we got back home. It took only 30 minutes for him to lose his temper and become churlish. Ah me, my 4-week vacation is over. I did tell him immediately that I would not tolerate that attitude and language, and he apologized. The dogs are back in his room to sleep. Jay-Jay looked unhappy about it, but Gus settled in to the old routine like it was no big deal. He was more excited about seeing them than they were to see him.

Tomorrow is Mike's 59th birthday. He's planning to eat lunch with a couple of buddies, and has promised he will order tea to drink. His friends have told me they will make sure he has no alcohol. Until his vision and reflexes have been tested, he's not supposed to drive. I probably need to go hide the car keys before he gets up in the morning. I hid all the wine and the corkscrews before I went to the hospital.

Mike struggled to climb the stairs this evening, and looked winded when he got to the top. He doesn't seem to have the stamina he had; another fall would be disastrous. But with all our bedrooms being upstairs, he doesn't have much choice, does he? He didn't mention the new paint on the walls. I'm not sure he noticed; I don't think he did. I'm not going to call his attention to it and see how long it takes him to say something.

This is not going to be easy.