My mom, sitting in her wheelchair, exhausted from a full day of therapy. She looks, with trust and determination, at the speech therapist, who is mouthing out “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” My mom tries to do the same – her forehead scrunched with effort, though her face still looks simple. She gets out the vowels, vocalized the melody, and tries to correctly form her lips and tongue, but still misses all of the consonants.
She looks like a child, sounds like a child, as if she was first learning to speak, and trying to imitate her mother.
But she’s not a child – she’s 56 years old, and she used to be able to speak.
It shouldn’t be like this. I shouldn’t have to see my mom relearning how to speak, relearning how to sing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” I shouldn’t have to see my mom trying so hard to do something that used to be so easy.
She looked so innocent, so earnest. So much like a child, it scared me.
p.s. I know this post might seem like it contradicts my previous excitement of her singing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” (which, by the way, needs a way shorter name), but it really doesn’t, at least not in my head. A part of me is really excited that she can sing it, but the other part of me feels like this. Expect more contradictions in the future – I certainly feel like I’m full of them.
My father went through a similar journey after suffering mini strokes caused by bacterial endocarditis. I was so excited when he started speaking again, but also incredibly sad at how much he struggled.
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