Claudia cannot choose the path her life is taking. Neuromyelitis optica directs her, making life smaller, confined to her hospital bed until someone pumps the hydraulic ram of a Hoyer Lift to raise her up and into a wheelchair.
Still, every morning I wake up expecting life to be like it was before her illness.
Facing my wife’s dementia: Should I fly off to see our grandkids without her?
I was so worried: How would Marsha be without my daily visits? What if she became depressed and agitated during my absence? Would she somehow think...
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