It was a scary and shocking sight: my mother walking around confused, sweaty and mumbling something inaudible. I thought she had been acting funny earlier that morning, but I chalked it up to my vivid imagination. As the afternoon faded into evening, though, my mother’s behavior grew more and more bizarre. It was impossible not to notice it. Even though my father instructed me to go to bed, I couldn’t sleep.
I tossed and turned, thinking about the day in detail; replaying it over and over in my head. The questions mounted: had she hit her head, was she losing her mind or perhaps, even worse, had she been abducted by aliens and now, was some strange creature in her body making her do weird things? I was completely and utterly perplexed. Mind you, I was also young and a little on the dramatic side.
The next morning, as things got worse, my father started to panic (for the record, I’d never seen him that way.) Left with what he explained as “no choice,” he gathered my mother together the best he could and carried her to the car. When he placed her in the front seat she writhed in pain. It was horrible to watch and I cried without letting her see me. Through my tears, though, I noticed something odd about the way she was sitting.
When my dad sprinted to the driver’s side and my mother was left alone in the car for a few brief seconds, she strangely favored her right side. It was if her left hip was injured. Then, as if his wife’s very life depended on it, my dad quickly drove out of sight. Later we would learn, her life did depend on it.
Editor: Matthew Auerbach