The sound of Mom's walker scraping across the floor just woke me up and it's a good thing it did. Mom had an accident and boy was it gross. I threw up while cleaning it up. I don't know what is causing these bowel accidents and diarrhea, but I sure am sick of them and so is Mom. At least she didn't get stool all over the bathroom like she sometimes does, and I was able to clean her up pretty well. Icky, icky, icky. How do I fall asleep after this? Mom is up reading National Geographic in the den.

My friends, therapist and caregiver coach all want me to get at least one night away from Mom while A is here. I hope I can do so. A, I wish you were going to be here on Monday when I take Mom to the neuro. I hope that we walk out of there with a diagnosis; but at the same time I'm scared to hear what I already know, and I'm not sure how Mom will take it, or if it will even register with her. She keeps asking what is wrong with her; she knows something is up but like Dad she doesn't want to say it out loud. I would give anything for a hug from Dad and some of his overprotectiveness.

My scrapbooking stuff came today from CM. Mom opened the box and opened up the pages, page covers and the scrapbook that I had ordered. She got upset with me when I came home, put the stuff back in the box and took it downstairs.