Word: johnã
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Medical records never convey these sentiments. After the war, my father brought my mother and brother to the United States where doctors scrutinized John??s condition. “Mr. John Adams is an Asian male who has been a quadriplegic since 1976. The quadriplegia developed after encephalitis. The patient was worked up by infectious disease doctors who could not determine a cause for the encephalopathy. The encephalopathy resulted in the quadriplegia and mental retardation. The patient will never progress further than six years of age and will need full-time care for the rest of his life...
...there wasn’t. John??s mental state never progressed beyond three years of age and my mother assumed the role of full-time caretaker. By engrossing herself in his needs, she often neglected those of my three older siblings and I. She made John Vietnamese food while I subsisted on peanut butter and jelly. She gave him baths at night while I put myself to sleep. He monopolized her time, he got all of the attention, he made me think Mama loved him more than she loved...
...John is when I was about four years old. I was in my backyard playing with my neighbor’s dog. I saw my mother carrying John from behind, her arms wrapped around his waist, his legs dangling down toward the concrete driveway. My father followed with John??s wheelchair, begging her to calm down. But she kept yelling at John to walk, not to play dumb. Her face was red. Even then, I knew that John??s grunting could only mean he was frightened. My mother let go and John crashed face-first into...
...constant crying. I didn’t want people to know that I regularly helped my mother clean up his “accidents.” By the fifth grade, I developed a fear that my school bus would arrive home at the same time John??s did. The other kids might start asking questions about the miniature school bus making a stop in my driveway...
...only one way: if men leave in stones their own hearts. Unlike the gorgeous mosques next door, the Western Wall is nothing to look at—it’s only holy because millions have wept there. And Abbey Road is just another tree-lined avenue in St. John??s Wood—cherished because thousands have had their picture taken in the crosswalk, because millions have looked into someone else’s eyes and seen George’s “Something,” and because the world entire has been converted...