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A Short Note On My Experience With Alzheimer 's Disease

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Kids, as you know, I was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease a couple of months ago. I already have some trouble remembering my precious recipes that make all of you so happy on every little and big family celebration. Sometimes I even forget where my keys are or where I’m heading. Daily events like taking the subway and trying to sing my all-time favorite songs are certainly an odyssey. But that’s ok. Those are trifles.
Although my long-term memory is still quite functional, what keeps me up at night is thinking that someday I will forget how I met your father and how incredible it felt the first time we made love. I will forget the inexplicable feeling of holding you two for the first time after carrying you inside of me for nine months. I might even forget all the words that took me so long to learn from the English dictionary that my ESL teacher gave me 20 years ago. I might forget who I am. Or perhaps how to love.
You know little about my life before coming to New York, and that is something I am not proud of. Neither is your dad. I apologize for avoiding your curiosity about my life for so long. In my defense, I’m a practical woman and, for the most part, I believe that if one’s words are not going to make any positive impact, they should remain as thoughts. But before all my good and bad memories are gone, and my brain becomes a useless piece of muscle, I want to tell you about my life in my native Chile.
1973 was a life-changing year for many Chileans. Augusto

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