Two days before my 16th birthday, ma had a stroke. She was a heavy smoker and had always suffered from severe migraines. She lost all memories of her job ( bookkeeper) and , although she could still talk, her syntax amd vocaublary was all over the place. For some reason or other, I seemed to be the only one who could understand what she was saying. Although we didn't get on at all, I felt mortally sorry for this powerful woman, stripped of her intelligence and dignity, struggling to make herself understood. I worked really hard to help her to feel more comfortable and in some way, it helped me too. I felt that she needed me -perhaps for the first time ever, and that we were connecting in some way at last. A difficult time, but a very good one too.
