My Mother's Medical Journey: Rehabilitation, Part 1

My mother's transfer to a rehabilitation hospital has been approved.


The fact that she is no longer in immediate danger is a tremendous relief.


She was always a very energetic person, so I am hopeful that physical rehabilitation will help her recover much of her strength and mobility.


She also has a mild language impairment, and I hope therapy will help improve that as well.


Her memories, however, will not return.


My father and many relatives see the loss of her memories as a major tragedy.


For those who have been forgotten, I suppose it is.


But what about my mother?


For her, I don't think it is a tragedy at all.


After all, she doesn't remember.


As long as she is not constantly reminded that she has forgotten something, she can live quite happily.


She laughs when I tell her jokes.


She no longer remembers who I am.


She now believes that I am her "kind older brother."


And honestly, I'm perfectly happy to be her kind older brother.


When I realized that she no longer remembered my name, tears filled my eyes.


Even so, I kept smiling and continued our conversation.


We were standing in a dimly lit elevator lobby, so I don't think she noticed my tears.


When I smile, she smiles.


If I look sad, she begins to feel that something is wrong.


She may think:


"I've forgotten something."


"I must have done something wrong."


And then she starts blaming herself.


My mother does not need her memories in order to live a happy life.


I want her to spend the years ahead smiling and enjoying each day.


That is why I intend to greet her with a smile, every time I see her.


And no, I am not forcing myself to do that.


Because I do not consider the loss of her memories to be a catastrophe.


To everyone who feels sad because they have been forgotten:


This is a request from the son who was forgotten.


Please smile when you are with my mother.


Please.

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