-The loss of a previously held ability to speak or understand spoken or written language, due to disease or injury of the brain.
"It's like trying to take care of a drunk person."
"It's like trying to take care of a drunk person."
She usually just slept a lot. I'd come home, hear an inquisitive hello, and have a quick visit before getting sucked into whatever it was I'd do on a given day. I'd end up having one head phone in, with another out, so that I'd be able to respond as if in conversation, but still able to do what I really wanted, listen to music.
She pointed at the ceiling one day and tried to say to turn off or on the fan or light, but it didn't come out that way. My guess is that her brain to mouth skills didn't work as well anymore. But she was going to the doctor that day, so I figured things would be all right.
Maybe the doctor didn't notice the error in her speech cognition, but she came back with no news.
The next few days were the worst. All she did was sleep. I'm sure she had headaches - she always has headaches. She had to have been extremely hungry. She had been throwing up after every ingestion for a while, so she quit eating. He rare speech became slurred, along with being like someone with a split-brain trying to relay a message from one side to the other.
We'd get her to drink pills every few hours, hoping they'd help, every time afraid we'd choke her with the water. Her mouth stayed open to help her breath, for a few days. My throat hurts after one night of sleeping like that. I can only imagine 3 days.
Sometimes she'd wiggle around, slightly adjusting her position on the bed. She'd seem conscious if we bothered her enough, but that's what it felt like, bothering.
It ended a month before her birthday.
I feel like I should focus on the good things. I should remember her, cherishing the good times, and laughing at the bad ones, regardless of the sadness I've felt from some of them. They're all good now. I should be happy that every pain she's had for so long is over. I want to believe that the day of one's death is better than the day of one's birth. I want to. I do.
I want to think of my future mother-in-law. I'd like to appreciate her. I want her to have a happy Mother's Day.
But this Mother's Day,
I'd like to stay home. I'd like to be alone. I'd like to not talk, or even think about things.
