He rallied a bit this morning and was able to drink water - he had been virtually unconscious for 48 hours, no speech at all, and not rousable. He was ranting this morning and saying some very unpleasant things to me; but this afternoon he has been calmer.
He is still very ill, but is conscious.
When he started to rally I did not know whether to be pleased or sad - he looked more at peace during those 48 hours than I have seen him in years and I was just hoping he would drift gently away and not regain full consciousness, and have to suffer all the terror of his paranoia all over again.
It is a dreadful emotional roller coaster. I slept on a chair by his bed for two nights, but have come home tonight as I am on my knees and must get a night's proper sleep.
Part of me wishes that he could just bring all this to an end - his future is so bleak if he survives. The doctor did warn us that if he did not go yesterday or today this could drag on. It is so emotionally exhausting.
It feels awful to wish that he had died but life has nothing for him any more.