“I race up and down the corridors of my mind, frantically seeking to make sense of what’s going on around me. Sometimes this process makes me even more lost, and I become lost about why I am lost!
It is amazing to me to ponder the possibility of missing the ultimate unique moment of my life, my death, because I have no words to describe it, or understand it, or appreciate it.
Perhaps too much time is spent trying to answer and question each other, when what I really need is to feel like I am being heard. I know you don’t have all the answers. You also don’t have all the questions!
“Don’t worry if you don’t know all the answers,” says the examiner.
“Which ones is it okay for me to not know?” ask I.
How can I do this “right” in the morning and “wrong” in the afternoon? Why do I recall details no one else remembers and forget major points everyone knows?
I believe Alzheimer’s has replaced cancer as the most feared disease people can imagine.
I was afraid of Act Two because I heard I would be required to drift in and out, back and forth, from my old self to my new self.
I am sure there is humor in my life, even now. I am sure there is unique meaning and purpose in my life, especially now.
We try, in our own ways, to communicate. Honor us for trying.
Every year, we ask physicians to check out our heart, our liver, our prostate and/or our breasts, and our eyes; but we almost universally neglect to check our brains.