I have noticed that as I have become less able to communicate, the more acceptable it is to assume my mental incapacity. Even though I reside in a prestigious nursing facility, I am falling victim to the notion that I am not reasonable or prone to fits of temper for "no reason at all". These prejudices, that is what they are, are harmful to the ALS patient. They leave us grievously wounded, susceptible to physical harms, like pneumonia, choking, death, etc; as well as mental harm, like grief, despair, depression, and death of the spirit.
Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart. Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.
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