Painful.

Having flashbacks is not my idea of a good time.  If I was going to have them why don't the good parts flash  too?
Mr Footless was the love of my life.  With all the mess and horrible of the last few years I did in fact love him.  One of the deal breakers of the last bit of being where I have been is simple.  Insulin Shock.
I don't know and will never know how much of the last  few years of crazy was a piece of manipulation and actually under some control and how much was Mr Footless's  weird metabolism going entirely bonkers because of age and slow deterioration. 
Whatever the answer was, Mr Footless was in and out of Insulin Shock several times a month.  He was so brittle that I could be talking to him and have him suddenly go into convulsions with a glucose level of 25 or thereabouts.
I was on first name basis with the EMT s and fire guys from the local ambulance station. I can't count how many times that I had six to ten big guys in my bedroom reviving my spouse to cart him off to the emergency room only to have him go through the whole thing a week or so later.
Nothing that we tried to bring things under control worked, absolutely nothing.
It was exhausting, it was terrifying, it was horrible and I realize now that He never experienced any of it. 
I was on the outside of the crazy having to do what needed to be done and dealing with having my home invaded by people who might not have paid attention but still saw and judged the chaos that we were living in. Then I would have to deal with someone who was pretty much in pain and battered up from convulsions plus being humiliated and angry from having a whole lot of guys in his space when he was not dressed for company.
  But for him, the actual experience was a blank.  I was terrified out of my gourd with these episodes and he was entirely unaware of what it was like for  the people who were there to go through this.
I understand now that I have developed a whole lot of strength, a calm head, and the ability to let go of any sense of embarrassment about what this must look like to the casual observer or any need to apologize for any of it.
I had to deal with it, but I didn't need to die of embarrassment because Mr Footless was having/being a problem. It wasn't my illness.  My illness was the codependency that made me unable to not participate in this incredible dance with death.
I walked out because I was unable to stay and survive.  If I had stayed, I have no idea if I would have been able to come out of this with my health and sanity intact.  It was  unbelievably hard, I wanted to go back every single day to stay.  I just couldn't.
And now he is dead, He is buried, and the hoard is being disbursed.  The house is coming back together. 
So what have I gained through all of this?
Strength.
Calm in the face of Chaos
Unflappablilty
A low tolerance for some kinds of crazy.
I know that I was not alone in any of this.
 I am not alone  now in this.
I am safe.
I also know that I would rather be alone all the rest of my life rather than ever let that kind of insanity into my life again.