She had an appointment at the hospital today.
Not the same hospital that she'd gone to weeks ago, but another one- one that she was more familiar with and still remembered.
Today the doctor examined her limbs, pushed a bit on the joints, spoke to her, asked her questions, spoke to her caregivers, told her that the next time they met would be after the Lunar New Year next year, and then prescribed her bottles of lactulose (just in case...)
Miss Brown didn't care how many bottles they prescribed her. The quantity didn't matter. What mattered was that she was here- in the Clinic- in an environment that seemed vaguely familiar, and yet one that didn't completely fade from memory.
How to??
This was where she had memories both pleasant and unpleasant. This was where they first taught her to climb up stairs and climb down stairs right after her stroke. This was also where they taught her to regain some strength in her left arm by playing some computer game. And this was where she used to sit and do her arm and leg exercises with her dedicated therapist whilst other patients hovered about doing different exercises with their own dedicated therapists.
They remembered her- the therapists.
Well, at least one- the lady- whom she had once thought was rather fierce but soon realized that she was merely firm. This lady came over, plonked herself down on the sofa n front of her, and greeted her BY NAME. To say that she was surprised was an understatement. She didn't think she mattered that much to the therapists here.
Apparently she did, and even though she didn't call out her name or smile or say hi (she couldn't recall her name, actually), when the therapist wore her glasses and pulled up her hair in a ponytail, she recognized her too- and acknowledged it with a subtle nod.
It was encouraging- it really was- that even though there might have been people in this world who threw away their own mothers- there were others who didn't throw away those whom they interacted with- even for a very short time.
It made her wonder if she should take a look at the gym again.
So when her caregiver asked her if she wanted to take a quick look, she agreed.
They didn't go in- the place was empty and there was no one inside, but although she couldn't quite remember how exactly it used to look like, one look at the rugged practice floor, the practice couch, the equipment, and those mornings that she spent here all came rushing back to her.
Not the same hospital that she'd gone to weeks ago, but another one- one that she was more familiar with and still remembered.
Today the doctor examined her limbs, pushed a bit on the joints, spoke to her, asked her questions, spoke to her caregivers, told her that the next time they met would be after the Lunar New Year next year, and then prescribed her bottles of lactulose (just in case...)
Miss Brown didn't care how many bottles they prescribed her. The quantity didn't matter. What mattered was that she was here- in the Clinic- in an environment that seemed vaguely familiar, and yet one that didn't completely fade from memory.
How to??
This was where she had memories both pleasant and unpleasant. This was where they first taught her to climb up stairs and climb down stairs right after her stroke. This was also where they taught her to regain some strength in her left arm by playing some computer game. And this was where she used to sit and do her arm and leg exercises with her dedicated therapist whilst other patients hovered about doing different exercises with their own dedicated therapists.
They remembered her- the therapists.
Well, at least one- the lady- whom she had once thought was rather fierce but soon realized that she was merely firm. This lady came over, plonked herself down on the sofa n front of her, and greeted her BY NAME. To say that she was surprised was an understatement. She didn't think she mattered that much to the therapists here.
Apparently she did, and even though she didn't call out her name or smile or say hi (she couldn't recall her name, actually), when the therapist wore her glasses and pulled up her hair in a ponytail, she recognized her too- and acknowledged it with a subtle nod.
It was encouraging- it really was- that even though there might have been people in this world who threw away their own mothers- there were others who didn't throw away those whom they interacted with- even for a very short time.
It made her wonder if she should take a look at the gym again.
So when her caregiver asked her if she wanted to take a quick look, she agreed.
They didn't go in- the place was empty and there was no one inside, but although she couldn't quite remember how exactly it used to look like, one look at the rugged practice floor, the practice couch, the equipment, and those mornings that she spent here all came rushing back to her.