The New Math

I knew that this day would come, all the literature talks about it. It is just part of the progression of the disease.

Part of the progression of the disease. It sounds so clear cut. So understandable. So orderly.
This happens, and then this happens and then this happens. Like a formula.

Except formula's lead to results, to answers. There are no calculations in the math I know how to do, where the expected answer is chaos, is forgetting, is not recognizing your son when he arrives unexpectedly.

No, she wasn't expecting me, and had been sleeping in a chair in the hallway, and had just been woken up to skoot down the hall for the daily round of "activities". I am glad that she is adapting to her new home, she's not happy there, but she's not unhappy either. She is looked after and cared for and watched and that is the best we can do for her.

But when she saw me, unexpectedly, amongst the hustling people that were getting her down the hall, she just stared at me, confused. Maybe she did know who I was, maybe she was just still half in a dream, maybe I am making too much of this.

Maybe I just don't understand this new math.