Gerda Saunders escribe este ensayo sobre su descenso a la demencia producto de una enfermedad microvascular, el diario que lleva para acompañarse y cómo descubre de la manera más íntima la enfermedad que afectó a su madre.
Damn, you missed a mileage board! You fix your gaze on the tarmac, proceed with gingerly premeditated glances to the side. Suddenly you realize that you have forgotten the number you are supposed to be looking out for. You probe the passenger seat for the instructions, bring the paper level with the top of the steering wheel, snag the number, repeat like a mantra. YES! Only three exits to go. This place has only three exits, sir: Madness, and Death.* As for me and my house, we shall shop. Ah, those red bed lamps you found when Marissa came back from South Africa.
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At La Frontera I was unable to interpret the beer stein the server put before me. I knew it was a beer stein, but couldn’t absorb the fact that it was upside-down. I saw it as right-side-up with a tight-fitting glass lid, which I tried to take off. I asked Peter how to get it off, and he turned the glass around. Then I understood. We were with friends.
Siempre le he tenido miedo a la mutilación. Es mi mayor miedo. Esta es otra variante de la mutilación y una de las formas del horror. ¿Qué pasa cuando los avances en la medicina hacen que el resto del cuerpo supere la fecha de caducidad de nuestro cerebro?
Sigue leyendo My Dementia. Telling who I am before I forget. Si puedes…