So ... sent off R's assessment to a place in Byron Bay where he has been accepted for a 2 week respite.  They don't do less than 2 weeks as it takes that long for them to start to settle.  Go down on Monday to pick up the forms, then to the doctor to get meds form filled and then to chemist for meds to go in an approved Webster pack. 

The woman I spoke to delicately asked whether I was considering R for permanent residency.  Day before yesterday I probably would've said no but that was before the fourth and last shower at 11pm last night and the second change of clothes (only one shower needed) by 11am today.  Selfishly I think I could do it if he didn't recognise me anymore but at this point it would be cruel. 

When I broached the subject of respite care he became angry, angry because he's frightened, frightened he will be abandoned, frightened to be alone among strangers when all the armour of mental and physical health has been rendered useless. 

But the stress increases.  Came home from feeding the horses; dishes still undone (that's one thing he consistently does, often they need re-doing but at least he feels he contributes and his entire life has been doing for others).  Found him in the bathroom with poop all over his hand.  He'd tried to wipe his bum without toilet paper.  And he is so contrite, confused but contrite, knowing something isn't right but unable to fix it.  Heartbreaking, this tall proud and gentle man reduced to this man/baby.  Dashed off to the farm a second time to lend my keys as Jilleen had locked hers in the feedroom.  Gone 20 minutes max and he'd managed to pee all over his clean khakis and shoes.  Running out of clothes. 

And I'm tired too and making mistakes.  Not sleeping.  Made the mistake of looking up the cost of aged care.  The horror will keep me awake again tonight.  Don't know how I'll manage it when the time comes.

But this too shall pass.  It will be okay in the end.  Somehow.