Today is my husband's birthday. Happy Birthday, my beloved!

Once again, he's proved us all wrong by opening his eyes to see another one. This is an important milestone.

Yesterday, we weren't sure if he would. He went into congestive heart failure again. A slew of rapid phone calls between his cardiologist's and pulmonolgist's offices and me on a course of action. I popped him with a large amount of heavy duty diuretic and potassium, but not without consequences. A "quick" trip to the Emergency room to semi-stabilize him lasting four hours with my ex-husband burning up minutes on my cell phone to call the squad. But for his comfort we (two daughters and myself) transported him via my van to the hospital.

He was eventually released for home. It is his ultimate wish to die at home surrounded by things and people he knows and loves. I, being his Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care, made sure he would be released before I even took him. My girls and I know this, but I'm glad I have their support even though it is very difficult.

So now he is in his own bed. I can't give him his Lasix because his blood pressure in only 50/20. He needs the fluids to maintain that blood pressure. He lost eight pounds of fluids yesterday with the Lasix and it only marginally reduced the extra fluids putting pressure on his heart, and filling and compressing his lungs. It's an oxymoron at best.

Our youngest daughter stayed here last night to help me and allowed me to get some rest. So I'm doing well. Or as well as can be expected. The hospice admit nurse from my #2 daughter's job will be by today. It is time. Not because the end is imminent and we are not capable of handling what is needed, but it gives us a break.

The girls will be by with the grandchildren like any other birthday. My husband will blow out his unlit candles because of the oxygen with his grandchildren's help. He'll eat maybe two bites of the cake and maybe a bite of his ice cream because it's required. We will try to make it a jovial event with this heavy cloud hanging over us. For the second time this will be done at his bedside. The first time he was in the hospital.

Once again we take humor of the situation. In the past it has always been around a holiday and a Thursday that my husband has had a crisis event. Yesterday was time for an 11-year old joke. "It's Thursday, do you have gas in your car?"

And the wait continues...