Now we're really getting down to it. I have an aortic aneurysm and rheumatoid arthritis, plus all the other infirmities that come with age. When I hear other people's stories--like yours--I feel both relieved that my situation isn't that dire yet and so sympathetic for what people are facing. It's so hard trying to have a sensible conversation, by which I mean a conversation that makes sense, when the responses are so off the wall. I did convince my husband to sleep upstairs in a separate room so I could get the sleep I desperately need. Every night we go through the same routine: a big hug, then I get in bed to read while he watches some TV. Then he comes in for a goodnight kiss. This all sounds charming, right? We say good night and he moans about how he'll never sleep in our bed again and I'm kicking him out. He leaves. I read. He comes back and we go through everything again. I think this time I'll be able to settle down. No way. In he comes again, same routine. Finally, when he's ready to go upstairs, he makes one last appearance. I can see the raised eyebrows as I write this, but these are the sort of apparently trivial, petty things that drive a person to distraction, like a Chinese water torture. Who'd have thought a drop of water could be so dreadful? If you've been through it, as you have, you know. If you just hear about it second- or third-hand, you don't understand the full tragedy. At least here I don't feel I have to pretty up the truth. That in itself provides some relief.