October 2, 2015 at 9:15 a.m.

Margaret is still sleeping fitfully, as she has been all night,
and in fact most of the past two days. Yesterday she drank,  by
her standards, copiously, 3 (8 oz) cups of whole milk and one
cup of cranberry juice, - but would eat amost nothing, three
teaspoons of yogurt, two teaspoons of 2% cottage cheese, half
of a small thin slice of ham.

Her occasional complaints are difficult to interpret. She says
plaintively "my feet", but stops mentioning her feet after I 
reposition them. She consistently extracts her arms from under
the blankets and seems not to mind the chilliness of the ambient
air. It's 62 degrees this morning. Remarkably, when I take her
hand she flinches and cries out as if in pain. Should I stop?

I try to learn to accept the hopelessness of the situation.