Mr. PNU is improving enough that, because he now recognizes the extent of his deficits, he's begun the grieving process for what he's missing and what may never come back. I held him for several hours tonight, wrapped myself around his body, and tried to offer words that both validated his pain and fears, and also offered encouragement and hope. There is no kind way to tell someone not to be discouraged when his life now is nothing compared to his life two months ago. I've yet to discover the best way to point out positives when my husband only wants to be clear headed, maybe sit up in bed on his own to reach a glass of water, or possibly take a walk with me in the cool of the evening without the involvement of a wheelchair. He tells me over and over that he's trying not to be selfish.