I closed my eyes. This couldn't be happening. A seizure--in front of my fourth graders at school! I could scarcely hear my husband giving the nurse in the ER my latest list of symptoms--fatigue, memory loss, balance issues, staggering, falling, brain fog, irritability, and now . . . seizures! I tried to wipe the sweat off my forehead. My hand couldn't find my face. I was soaked in urine and needed to vomit. I wanted this all to be over. But it wasn't. It was just the beginning. For the next few months, I would be evaluated by experts and whispered about by friends. Hallucinations haunted me day and night. I was scared and worried on days I wasn't catatonic. I was complacent and even silly at other times. The "lady with early onset of dementia" became my calling card. I was expected to die. I wanted to die. The journey I took claimed many victims. My family and friends were immersed in my fear and frailty. The decision to put me in a nursing home was the trending talk. But how can you treat what you don't know you have when all you do know is that something's wrong?
Impresión bajo demanda
Impresión bajo demanda
Impresión bajo demanda
Impresión bajo demanda
Impresión bajo demanda
Impresión bajo demanda
