I get so frustrated when people tell me I'm being "brave." I certainly don't feel brave. I feel so useless most of the time, unable to do the simplest things without help. The only thing that still seems to work--at least sometimes--at my old level is my brain. But even there, I don't seem to have the patience, or the stamina, or whatever, to do any sustained work.
The tiredness, the fatigue, is so overwhelming. If I close my eyes, I can feel myself drifting off towards sleep. And sleep is a good thing. Last night, making up for a night of poor sleep the night before, I think I slept for more than ten hours. And it was good that Marty got a pretty good night's sleep, too. So the day got a late start; I didn't have breakfast till about ten, and I had a late lunch in mid-afternoon. Food continues to be pleasurable, anyway.
Meanwhile, I have to deal with important decisions, like whether to rent out the upstairs or turn the building into two condos. I get so worried about running out of money. I really didn't think I'd live this long, and although the general trend is definitely downward, it is really, really slow, and I'm so afraid I could linger on like this for awhile, just watching my money dwindle and getting weaker and weaker.
I hate this damn disease!