The Stunning Loneliness of Caregiving
<p>“When did your dad have his stroke?” The doctor on the night shift in the ICU turns to look at us, his fingers poised above the keyboard, ready to add this information to my father’s chart.</p>
<p>My brother says, “Five years ago? Seven? Somewhere around that time.”</p>
<p>“It was almost fourteen years ago,” I say. “February 1, 2010.”</p>
<p>My brother glances at me. I can tell he is surprised I remember the exact date.</p>
<p>Of course I do. It was the day my life ended.</p>
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