Last night scared me. Not physically, as in immediate danger. But I had a ping of fear that I wouldn't be able to do it after all, to handle it. After the hysteronics settled and I coached myself out of the personal effrontery of the barrage of personal insults I was getting, his unbridled paranoia set in. Each time any well intentioned loved one inquired...you know, those who actually want to know, not the social version of the questions, he was so near me I couldn't actually discuss how bad it was. Although he never lets me out of his sight, I am, apparently, the cause of all these terrible things that were happening.
tonight was lovely.
He was personable and had no serious paranoia episodes. Isn't it funny that one can judge a "good" day from a "bad" day by the degree of paranoia? Tonight he kept checking the furnace room as he deemed some scrub buckets to be too close to the hot pipes. He earnestly pleaded with me to accompany him to do the checking on everything. Even after we had thoroughly checked and made sure nothing was touching said pipes, he would meander back in there to check. He ate the sandwiches I had left for him while I ran out for an hour to yoga. He remarked about how good they were. Usually he eats nothing and if he does, he doesn't remember nor remark upon them in any way. As I helped him dress for bed, I was pleased that he had brushed his teeth on his own. So strange...to be so pleased over the degree of loss.