Dear Diary,
These vows ring in my head as a commode is delivered to my front room. In all my married years, I never thought that the day would come where I could not look after my husband anymore, but today, I feel as if I am come to the end.
I know it isn’t the end, but it is how I feel.
I don’t want to put him into a home. I want to care for him. He has been ill and on dialysis for 15 years. Diabetes is a merciless disease. Killing you slowly. Taking away all dignity and self worth.
I watch my husband, a shadow of the man he was, wishing his life away. I want him to recover from his knee operation but he seems to have given up. I have promised to take care of him if he could just try and walk so that he can make it to the toilet. We have one room downstairs and the thought of him having to relieve himself in our lounge is the end of my tolerance.
I don’t want my grandchildren to see this. I don’t want to live a hermit in my house without visitors. I don’t want my husband to feel any less of a man than he does already.
In sickness and in health is what I vowed. Today, I really know what that means.
Anon.
The Chatterjis Blog 
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