It scares me to death when The Curmudgeon has a bad spell.   He had a particularly bad one yesterday. 

     He was on the floor and I couldn’t get him up.  I hurt my back trying to do it.  Finally, I called the neighbor for help.  We were fortunate he was home and responded.

     With me already an emotional wreck, this bad spell sent me over the edge. While the neighbor helped him, I fell apart in the kitchen, well away from them so The Curmudgeon couldn’t see me.

     I know he’s frustrated when these things happen.  I am too.  There’s no light on the horizon either, and yet we plod on.