The first 2 days home she pretty much slept.  Rehabs are a lot like hospitals.  You don't really get to rest.  I was feeling positive as all Hell.  Even made a few day trip plans.  Had suggestions.  I was all in.  Sadly I was the only one.  Oh no faithful reader.  I am still the same realist.  There will be reminiscing, maybe tender stuff.  But I am still the same about those 2.  Anyway.

     The following week looked promising.  The B.I.L. was off.  So if there were any bumps; or need of help, he'd be there.  Weekend went as it always did.  They started fighting like cats and dogs Saturday night.  I think it was over her demand for a smoke.

     I put my headphones on and listened to podcasts until I fell asleep.  Sunday night the same shit.  Monday was the beginning of the week.  Gave her a little pep talk. She assured me she was leaving the bedroom.  Off I went.  Yup, whoever thought that she didn't leave was right.

     I let it slide until Wed.  I tried talking to her again.  First it was an excuse of that she had been exercising in the bedroom.  Then it was that the cluttered doorway was impassible.  Then she demanded the walker.  It was my mom's and in the garage.  It was brought forth.  That week passed into the weekend.  The B.I.L. telling me she never left the room.  Yet I was still somewhat hopeful.

     He was spending his usual time with her the following week.  Come home, 10 min to complain about his day.  Then watch T.V. in the living room and drink.  Eat dinner, he'd bring her's for her into the bedroom.  Downstairs still drinking.  Come upstairs and make her tea for like 2 hours.  She bought it.  When really all he was doing was drinking and drunkenly complaining to himself.  Part of me wonders if he regrets that.  

     The fights were nightly.  No I don't think the alcohol played a bigger role.  They were always volatile.  One night I did intercede, it was annoying as Hell.

     With some encouragement from her and myself the next week.  It was the July 4th weekend.  Told you the time line may be iffy.  He went to stay for an overnight with his family.  

     It was an alright night.  I even watched the Macy's day fireworks with my sister.  Something I never do and I suppose now I'm glad I did.

     He came back and said he'd a nice time.  Then it was back to fighting every night.  It was truly nightmarish.  the second week passed.  She still had not left the room.  At 1 point I distinctly remember.  She'd called him in to watch some T.V.  He screamed from the kitchen that he was making her tea.  Bet he wishes he could have those 2 hours back.  But hey there was fucking bud light to be drank.

    The final week the fighting slowed.  My sister was not backsliding completely.

I'm going to stop here for today.