The Veterans Community Center where I've been hoping that my husband could go to live has accepted him. Now all we have to do is wait for a bed. I visited the place and was delighted at how much more it seemed to be a grouping of individual apartments and how much less like a nursing home.

Of course it has medical personnel and wheelchairs and all the appurtenances of 24/7 care, but it did not feel like a warehouse for old people but more like a living center for people to, well, live. Not go there to die. So different from hospitals and hospices and so-called rehabilitation centers.

Other good news, he got a haircut. Now this may not seem like a big deal, except that this is the first sign that he is taking care of himself, and signals a lifting of the depression that has weighed him down for years. All for the good.

The final bit of news is that I survived this week and, after visiting him this evening, am heading into a well-deserved weekend. Wish me luck during the 20-mile hour-long Friday night commute (Yom Kippur begins at sundown).

Now if I could just get rid of this cough....