What Will Tomorrow?

I am not sure how much more of this I can take, how much farther I can go. As much as I want to live, this disease is making that increasingly difficult. Even with the advent of a live-in caregiver, a situation we are on the cusp of resolving, life is becoming increasingly difficult for me. These days my breathing is becoming increasingly shallow; I run out of breath on a regular basis, finding myself lacking the expulsive power even to finish a sentence or tow.

Six months? A year? I'm not sure. My brain is so active these days with both the challenges and learning with respect to automation of my home as well as the philosophical elements which I am compelled to confront and contemplate daily. Time becomes irrelevant, near unimportant as I face the expected outcome. My life is nearing its end. Unfortunately I am interested in so many things, so much, that dying simply seems out of the question.

It almost seems unfair to ask a live-in to step into this kind of situation. How long will this job last? What emotional toll will it take to walk these months along side of me? There is no doubt that caring for me, or anyone in my position, will take an immense emotional toll. On the other hand, anyone stepping in now will have a clear view of the potential timeline and the expected pathway to the outcome. If they sign up for the job, they must accept these things.

So this has been my day today, wondering about these things. Tomorrow I will arise, to wonder again. Will I wonder about living and dying? Will I wonder about the emotional cost of caregiving? Or will I, with any luck at all, focus on the requirements and tasks of getting switches to work in my apartment, automated switches? Switches I think it will be. After all, at least I can do something about them.