Hubz was mostly bedbound, in diapers, had a feeding tube and catheter and had occasional vascular dementia. I took exceptional care of him but I also got exceptionally angry at him for forgetting stuff like keeping his hands out of his dirty diaper area while I changed him or wiping feces on the wall. Anything that gave me extra work. I lashed out verbally, not too often or I would be suicidal now but instead of being proud of how good a job I did, all I can remember is hollering at him. He was a sweet, wonderful man who deserved better and I am lucky that the short-term memory allowed him to forget my anger, which came mostly I think from exhaustion. We loved each other very much and truly I was not ready for him to pass.