3 w. ago
My husband and son suffered strokes, 30 years apart. Shockingly little had changed
I was told my husband would never talk again, while physiotherapy was dismissed entirely. My son was failed in similar ways, but for the brilliance of some medical staff who refuse to believe a stroke is the endOn the night before the accident, John and I and our son Jay, who was then 26, lingered in the garden drinking wine and enjoying the mid-summer scent of jasmine and lilies. We talked about the Manet exhibition we had just seen at the National Gallery. We probably talked about how the end of the cold war might affect the chances of Bill Clinton winning the presidential election against George HW Bush in November. I know what John thought about that. I only wish I could recall his words.The next morning, 30 July 1992, John got up before me as he always did. In the kitchen I found the contents of the dishwasher – knives, forks, spoons, plates, mugs – jumbled together on the table. This was odd because unloading the dishwasher was the one domestic ritual he willingly performed. I...
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