lonesome nights

Jeff went to bed at eight tonight. He continues to say he has fluid in his lungs and then will breathe out until this raspy noise emits from the back of his throat. Because of the cough, he and I haven't slept in the same room since Mom's funeral. There have been several times that I wake in the night realizing something is wrong and it would be nice to not be alone. Then again, I am glad not to be woken by the coughing on those times I can get some sleep. He and I have started "jokingly" calling each other roomies. I wonder if this is how a marriage begins to disintigrate, beginning with the best of intentions?  I feel so disconnected from daily life anyway. It's like in order to function, I have to step away from the interaction instead of getting closer.

Jeff seems to be almost fascinated with his poor health, I guess in the same way I will go into the bathroom and stare at my face when I have a cold sore. He's pretty sure it is walking pnemonia. He had that ten years ago and I guess once you've heard the word pnemonia applied to you, the echo of it follows every coughing illness. Although, it seems like after going to the doctor three times they would have diagnosed it. Then there is also the part of me that is so tired of him being sick. My ability to provide compassion is at an all-time low and what little is left goes straight to the kids. Not to suggest I have ever been that good at caretaking. My mom was always good at reminding me to be kinder. Many people in my life have complimented me on my thoughtfulness or caring. If they are right, will I be able to continue being the nice I've always been without her? Or will I slip into some kind of selfish cocoon where all I see are my own needs or the lack of them being met? I know I haven't done much for anyone else since mom and dad died. Do you ever feel like getting back into things or do you just have to push yourself? Too many questions, you'd think after being a grief counselor for years, I'd have at least a few answers.