Anthony can’t find or utter the words any more and this is terribly frustrating for him, and for Ming and me. He was much more awake today than he has been for the last week, so I felt a bit silly to have thought/written that he might be on the brink of death. Last year I was terribly angry with a relative who suggested this and now it’s me thinking the same thing, almost a year later.
I am shocked at how, within the space of a week, Anthony has developed dysphagia to the extent that he has difficulty in swallowing even vitamised food, and can hardly speak any more. It is the latter that is most upsetting for me because of how much I have always enjoyed our conversations, no matter how bizarre.
If Anthony stops speaking altogether, I will have to become more creative in what I say to him. The blog will help, photos of the farm will help, Ming references will help, memories will help.
I know that Anthony’s incoherence will soon become a silence that I may not know how to read and this worries me.
Me: I love you, Ants.
Anthony: ….
Me: You’re supposed to say it back!
Anthony: I love you, Jules.
jmgoyder 