Tell me. Is THIS all, just an Atripla dream? Vivid recall of nocturnal screams, lingering traces of incontinence in my nares, physical toll of caregiving, on a body, a mind, spirit, a soul. The loss of choice. The erosion of a heart. Desire for release. Waiting for the end. Some days, are as easy as pie. Some days, she prays,†God, please let me die.†The costs of longevity. Healing scarified skin, MRSA invades my home. The stench of C-Diff, too. Her sensorial losses, overload for me. Dreams to nightmares, then back to dreams. When did swallowing become a risk? Monitoring viscosities. Attempting to undo, a kyphotic stance. Parkinson’s crept in. Shuffling, shuffling. Rigid and stiff. S- for scoliosis. The self-proclaimed, “Crooked Ladyâ€. My home, where skill is love and love is skill. My life ,my dreams on hold. My reality