The Looks, The Stares
Every day, every night, it happens.
I don’t know why, but it is almost as if her mind has wandered off somewhere, deep inside. It is hard to see, to cope with. I know, it is old age, and perhaps even signs of her mind slowly going. Could even be a sign of previous strokes, or ‘mini infarctions’ as the Paramedic said awhile back.
No one has talked to me about it, which is rather odd. I mean why do Doctors speak in such guarded tones? Do they expect me to fall to my knees, sobbing? Or is it their goal to try and enforce the perception that they are GODS? I know, I am sounding bitter, but really, it just makes it harder for me to cope with, the not knowing.
I haven’t a clue how to manage it, and perhaps a good discussion with the Doctor would help, but they are so distant, so apart from those in their care. It is frustrating as hell, and really, who can one talk to? David is too young, too much of a runner than a coper, so who is left?
I know I should ask the Doctor, or the Nurse, but how?
How do you broach the subject, when every part of you wants to ignore it, to not know, but you need to know. Knowledge is key, isn’t it? Still, how do you begin that kind of conversation?
