I Can't Remember

My name is Edith Heart, and today is my 70th birthday. Last month I suffered a stroke that has taken me and "my family" by surprise. I am paralyzed on my left side and I cannot speak much. The only way I can communicate is through writing and I have forgotten how to spell most words. I feel my condition is getting worse and I fear of losing touch with the one's that I once loved. I hardly have any family left really. My husband died about two years ago and since then I have found myself dreadful and alone.

I am in the hospital still from where I've had my stroke. Therapy is hard. It takes a lot of strength, which I lack, to do the activities. I find myself slacking off and I have no supporters to cheer me on. "I will walk again." I tell myself every time I see myself in the mirror. I am my own worst enemy and my only hope, in saying that, I have little faith in myself. I beg to be well again, but I can't do it alone. "Oh God, Please help me. Grant me the strength to deal with this and be okay." I cry out to God in such pain as I go to bed at night.

Somebody just entered the room and called me grandma. She says her name is Marie but I've never seen her before. She runs up to me and hugs me and then another girl comes to see me. She says her name is Clare. The funny thing is, she didn't call me grandma. She calls me Mama. But she's not the only one that calls me mama. After she hugs me and starts to cry, another young man approaches me and calls me mama as well. He says his name is Dwayne. "I don't have any children." I attempt to say as I scream at the top of my lungs. The small child ran out crying and the woman followed in behind her. The young man comes up to me and tries to explain who they are but for the life of me, I just don't know.

Why are they doing this? I think to myself and I turn towards the window. I can still hear the young man crying to me. He's not really telling me much. He just keeps trying to remind me that I know who he is. But I honestly don't. Why did they continue to call me mom even after I told them that I didn't have any children? I have no kids, but I'm sure if I did I would remember it, wouldn't I? What is going on with me? I feel a single tear fall down my face. I try to recall, but I just can't.

My nurses seem so frustrated when I ask them this question. Like I've asked them before, but I need an answer. I need an answer now. Who am I? What's wrong with me? Where am I? What am I doing here? The nurse pats my shoulder and she answers my questions to the best of her ability. Every day I get up, it's as if I start all over again. As if yesterday never happened. I relive the same day all over again. In my mind I do anyway.

The last thing I remember is when I was a little girl. I can remember my mom playing dolls with me. I've been waiting for her to come and see me, but she hasn't came yet. Maybe she doesn't know where I'm at. She's probably worried about me. I don't want to scare my mama. She'll be so mad with me. I reach for the phone with my right hand and I fail. I need to tell her that I'm ok. When my nurse comes in I ask her to help me out and to call my mama and tell her where I am so she can come and get me, but she won't. She just says, "You're doing just fine." I feel like I have no other choice than to trust what she's telling me.

The rest of the stuff that I'm processing isn't really my memories at all. I know because the people at the hospital and the strange people that comes in, and call me those strange names such as grandma and mama. I long to remember them but I just can't. I am sure that they are great people if only there were something. I have some of my talking back but not much. And by not much, I mean barely enough where anybody seems to know what I'm saying. So I try my best to stick to the writing.

For some reason I feel like I'm getting weaker. I can't remember what it's like to have lived. I can hear the nurse on the phone as she calls different people and tells them that I'm not doing too well that they should come in and see me. I don't really know what she's talking about. All I can do is lay here. I lay here and I listen. I listen and I wait. I wait for something to be familiar, something that will trigger a memory. But nothing does. I hear the sound of distant footsteps as I close my eyes. When I look up again, I see different kinds of people. They're all looking at me funny and crying. They each take turns telling me things about myself. I feel like I'm drifting away slowly and I can't explain it. I close my eyes once again and am ready to meet my Jesus, and the rest, I'll never forget.