Even on Seroquel the days and nights are so long. During the day I have to be ever vigilant. (We have sold our home and preparing to move soon). I live for the time at night when husband finally lets me guide him to bed. Then I settle down to watch tv or read, sometimes have a glass of wine. I often fall into a troubled sleep, listening for sounds from our bedroom telling me that he is up again for one or more of his many obsessive behaviors.
He will fall asleep, but wake several times through the night from about 10 until daylight. I doze off and on as he gets up again and again, sometimes readying himself by dressing, combing his hair, sometimes gathering up a few possessions, declaring his desire to "go home", or a dozen other reasons. I do not sleep in that bed because, despite every effort to restrict liquids in the afternoons, he resists and his incontinence, though I have a waterproof matress pad, and waterproof pads on top of the sheets, he still can soak the bed. We have a bedside commode which he does use about half the time. But his constant movements, bed-wetting and getting up have made it impossible for me to share that bed.
Last night was just one in a series of "last straws", knowing that the next last straw might be tonight. He made fists of his hands as I tried to guide him back to bed for the fifth time. He threatened to "punch me in the nose". My anger rose bitterly in my chest. I was diagnosed about 20 years ago with fibromyalgia, have a minor heart issue, Graves' disease, and blood pressures that, of late are running around 187/102. I am on three meds for that. I have two full hip replacements and a very painful ankle with plates and screws from a two year-old break of both bones. I take Tylenol combined with Motrin once or twice a day to help with the pain of that and the fibro, having kicked a four year Vicodin addiction. My days and nights are filled with the pain of those issues as well as the emotional pain of exhaustion.
My husband has become my torturer. My undying love for him no longer exists, only pity and frustration remain. I have almost no respite -only a grant to go to a support group or to travel to medical appointments for myself, though many are cancelled because I cannot afford the co-Pays. His daughter visits twice a month for three hours and she is good with him, but I then prepare lunch and dog-sit, as she works full time so feel she must bring them -two Aussies. One visit I asked if I could nap while she was here, "sure, she said", but less than an hour later there was a knock on the bedroom door indicating her need to go. We do have some better days and nights, but the exhaustion is unrelenting. And there is no light at the end of this dark tunnel. There is absolutely no money for his care outside the home. I hate feeling this way. He was good to me when I was recouping from surgeries, but that man no longer exists. So many tears, though I truly do make use of resources.