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Sometime later next week, Don will be moved from the L TAC to the rehab hospital.

The doctor said he will be there for at least two weeks, if not 3 to 4 weeks.
In rehab he will get more intensive therapy to increase his endurance.

I'm exhausted, and weary.

I've found myself pulling into a hole ...and not calling people or reaching out. I've not even been to church in weeks.

I had a conversation with my pastor a couple of years back asking him why we have to depend on our brothers and sisters in Christ, if we know how to recieve comfort from God and he gave me an answer that just frustrated me. I know now that I made a mistake in not learning the lesson he tried to teach me.

As it is, I don't know how to say to those close to me ... help. I'm alone, and scared and stuck. The people I'm telling what's going on are out of town, out of state ...and across the internet. I text messaged my pastor (former pastor) and told him that I'm isolating a little ...and within 20 minutes, I got a phone call from my dear friend Wanda (from Wanda's Wings) and she said "how ya doing?" I said fine her response was "Pinocchio"

She'd been called and told to check on me. Whoops.

Our youth pastor warned me of being careful to not get caretakers fatique ... I'm don't know how you know when you have caretakers fatique ... but I know that I was glad to see the kids come back to camp, but I find the idea of going to church almost terrifying.

I think the questions of "how are you, how is Don" will be overwhelming. I know that I will be hugged by people I don't want to be hugged by ...and I know I will have to repeat what's going on more times than I can count ... so it's easier to just not go. The more I stay away, the easier it is to just not go.

So, here I am, hiding in my home and in my husband's hospital room, updating people only through on line measures ... and not making calls to friends to say 'hey! I'm lonely' or going to get a cup of coffee with a friend or go do something interesting ... and I know that all of this is draining me and the more I do it, it's all I can do.

What is feeding me? Nothing, literally nothing....not spiritually, not emotionally, not nutritionally. My food intake has dropped to little to nothing ... a few bites of fruit or veggies ... and every third day or so I might eat part of a real meal.

I see myself sinking and part of me feels like it's ok. When Don is ok, I'll pull myself up. The other part of me just wants to sit down and say I've fought for so many years I don't want to fight anymore. The other part of me just wants to say ...someone needs to fight for me ..only I don't want to reach out to anyone to tell them I just don't have any fight left.