Mike's condition continues to deteriorate. He's not able to do much but sleep and watch TV. His appetite is poor, his disposition is surly, his personal hygiene is non-existent, and he won't let me bathe him. I did manage to get him out of the bed long enough to change the sheets after he spilled his drink today. He sat on the cedar chest at the end of the bed and was so weak he was trembling the whole time and threatening to fall in the floor.

I plan to ask the nurse tomorrow if we need to consider hospice. She's got direct access to the doctor, and can give him medical facts to make the case for it. They started him on an antibiotic Monday. Tests on blood drawn on Saturday indicated a low-grade infection of some sort.

This experience has required me to stretch quite a bit. I'm finally over most of the anger I was feeling about Mike's self-inflicted injuries, and actually feel some compassion for him. His irritability is not annoying me like it used to, in fact, I hardly recognize the sweet, cheerful nurse who is attending this cantankerous old man. I think her name may be Grace. And she came as an answer to YOUR PRAYERS.

Thank you.