I’m Between Stories
About seven years ago, the first warning sign that my mother wasn’t herself was her inclination to comply. She would ask permission (it seemed) for small, simple things. She’d look to her husband, “is this OK?”
It pricked my senses. What was happening?
I didn’t see in him as desiring to control her. They had already been through her first round of cancer together. He took on his new role and became caregiver. It didn’t make sense.
No. This was something else, this was the first symptom of Alzheimer’s settling in. Dementia has