Bleak house

Coming back from a week out of the country was as expected, maybe a little worse.

H had a "bad week," he said. He has some minor episodes of seizures, which has happened before, but he didn't go to the doctor or call his sister, who lives nearby. He didn't want to call as it "would have meant a trip to the hospital."

He said he was depressed and slept most of the time; lonely too, he said. Hardly ate because he "just gets confused cooking" and didn't go out to eat very much. Happily he had a few friends come visit.

While I hear the voice screaming in my head, "I'm done with this," it doesn't mean that I can't feel sympathy for this sad, sick man. And I do. And so, I can't or won't scream at him.

H leaves tomorrow for two weeks out of town and I'm glad. I shall be able to have some peace and quiet and relief from the funhouse that is our home now.