Recovery under construction; drive slowly

Yesterday was day 12 since Bill's accident, and the road to recovery has not been nearly as bumpy as the ride he took through the corn or bean field where he ended up when the car went off Route 47. (The car, by the way, is still on the critical list; I haven't even seen it.) So I decided to take the wheel yesterday, since he has not been cleared for driving. It was a tiring day as Bill progressed to more mobility and I hovered anxiously (the hospital said you're a fall risk! I'll have to call 911 if you fall because I can't pick you up!) around his remarkable advances to everyday living activities.

He thinks my sense of humor quit. I think it went to take a shower, a daily living activity I hadn't yet gotten to yesterday. He said, she said. So some harsh words came out at the end of the day, despite my best intentions to be a sainted caregiver, chief household financial officer in charge of doctor bills (they're here already), the religion reviews editor of Publishers Weekly (my day job), and bottle washer  (a urinal is really just a well-designed bottle). He has a doctor's excuse. Me, I guess I was more tired than I thought.

Our daughter arrived to help with care and household responsibilities. Wunderbar, I have someone else I can order around now. He went to sleep, I went to sleep. Sleep heals, and joy comes in the morning.