Just after my seventieth birthday, I was diagnosed with brain atrophy.
After hearing the doctor's words, the sons were all panicked and wiped away tears one by one.
In the end, everyone unanimously decided not to give up on me.
The eldest son said he would pay for a caregiver, but the younger son insisted on taking me to his side and said he would take care of me personally.
My heart felt warm, and I felt that all my hard work in this life had paid off.
He happily followed his younger son back home.
But the condition worsened far faster than anyone imagined.
In just two years, I had only a handful of sober moments.
He relied on feeding him to eat, and urging him to poop, and he even almost threw his grandson away as garbage several times.
It wasn't until they lost patience with me and started to abuse me in different ways that I understood.
It turns out that it's time for me to find a destination for myself...
