Those were brave words back then in early December. I was overly optimistic in booking the Maui trip. In the after-Christmas let-down period, it became obvious that there was no way that I could -- or should -- make this last big trip with Joan. She was becoming harder to manage with occasional outbursts of shouting and abuse of her Home Care caregivers. It became impossible to take her with me to my curling games. She would sit quietly and watch for about an hour. Then she would begin getting very agitated and shouting and I'd have to quit the game. And the manager of ElderCare asked me to withdraw Joan from her twice-weekly five-hour stays with them because of her incontinence problems. It meant I would now be caring for Joan full-time, all the time, 24/7. That prospect was depressing and it really started getting to me. By late January, I was seriously depressed and desperate for a way out. I was only sleeping a few hours a night and when I woke up, I would find my hair, my night shirt and the bed sheets soaked with perspiration. When I got up for breakfast, I was seriously dehydrated. Fortunately, Joan's doctor had made an appointment with the geriatric assessment center attached to the Misericordia Hospital. The appointment was for Feb. 1 and I began pinning huge hopes on it, hoping that they would find me a way out. When my daughter, Sarah, learned about the state I was in, she immediately booked a flight from Vancouver, postponing by a few days, a fun trip with her husband to Los Angeles. It was a huge relief having her ease some of the pressure on me. My brother, Garnet, was also a huge help. The four of us -- Joan, myself, Sarah and Garnet -- sat around a table with a geriatric physician and her assistant. I laid it out as strongly as I could that I had reached my rope's end. Garnet and Sarah backed me up on that. The doctor had been expecting to see a patient who MIGHT have dementia. But after gently probing Joan with a series of memory-related questions, she soon realized that Joan was a late-stage Alzheimer's victim. She also realized that unless someone else began caring for Joan BOTH of us might soon have to be hospitalized. She proposed a way out that involved us going straight across to the hospital's emergency centre. There would be a long wait but eventually Joan would be admitted to the hospital. Did we want that, she asked. Yes, I said, emphatically. It's now been nearly three months since Joan was admitted to the hospital. The first month was a big struggle for me. My doctor increased my medication for depression and I began seeing a mental health counsellor. She worked with my family doctor on my mental state and my sleeping problems. I hesitatingly said "yes" when the counsellor asked if I had any thoughts about suicide. I seemed very unlikely that I would ever again feel good about myself or develop any love of living again. Maybe I'm being overly optimistic but I HAVE climbed out of that deep, dark hole I was in. My medication has been reduced, I'm pretty well back to normal sleep patterns and I have resumed a wide range of activities that I had set aside whilde acting as a 24/7 caregiver. There have been other incredibly powerful and energy-giving changes in my lifestyle that I won't get into here. Just accept that I am again happy with myself and excited about what is to come in the last third of my life. Joan had caregivers with her round-the-clock for the first two months. Most of that time, she has been on a ward for long-term care of a wide variety of mostly geriatric problems. It's far from ideal for an Alzheimer's victim because few of the nursing aides have any real understanding of AZ patients' needs. I visit her every day for about 1.5 to two hours, do her laundry and arrange for her special needs such as having sessions with a hair dresser and a pedicurist. As I write this and think back to Feb. 1, I know Joan's condition has advanced quite a bit. I'm not always sure she knows who I am. I'm sure she doesn't recognize Paula, her best friend, when she visits every Friday, usually with another member of the 'birthday girls'. Her round-the-clock care by personal attendants was stopped about a month ago because she can't be assigned to an AZ care centre with that high level of care. I think, consequently, she has had at least two falls. She had an X-ray done that revealed a possible hair-line fracture of her hip. Until that fall, she would never sit for long, always getting up and slowly ambling along the ward hallways. They found they had to put her in a restraint chair so she would sit still long enough for her meals. Now she's in a chair of some kind all the time and isn't straining to get up and go somewhere. There has been no indication from the ward social worker or from the charge nurses that they have a place in mind for Joan. I have provided the requested three best places for her, in my opinion. But I've been told that when she is finally moved, it will almost certainly be to a different facility which may be much further away. And I've been told to expect to have to begin paying for Joan's room and board -- a charge of about $48 a day. After a lot of poking around with bureaucrats and an accountant, I have figured out a way to pay for it without quickly burning through all our savings...