Just a warning…this is a two-hanky post.

On Friday, my sister accompanied my mom to Dad’s doctor appointment at the Stanford Memory Clinic.

Dad has had a difficult month–he was hit with a bad intestinal virus that kept him out of commission for a while. Then, he couldn’t get out of bed one day and ended up in the emergency room. Turned out he had a compression fracture in a vertebrae…just due to old age.

So Dad has declined quite a bit this month. He’s weak and lethargic, even to the point of whispering, as if it takes too much energy to project his voice.

Back to the doctor’s appointment on Friday…the doctor told Mom and my sister that Dad is now in late stages of Alzheimer’s. He said that falling will be a concern as Dad’s balance and coordination fails. He wants Dad to have a walker to help stabilize him. All of this information wasn’t a surprise, but it’s still hard news to hear.

But then there was one moment…a gift. A mercy. A sweet memory among many sad ones.
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Dad doesn’t have much vocabulary left, but when the doctor asked him who mom was, he whispered something back.
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The doctor looked at Mom and asked, “Did you hear what he just said?”

Mom shook her head.

“When I asked him who you were, he whispered, ‘She’s…my everything.'”

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