You sound fine.” “That’s what everybody tells me.” “So how do you know things are going downhill?
Morrie sighed.Nobody can know it but me, Ted. But I know it.
And as he spoke, it became obvious. He was not waving his hands to make a point as freely as he had in their first conversation.
He had trouble pronouncing certain words—the I sound seemed to get caught in his throat.
In a few more months, he might no longer speak at all.
“Here’s how my emotions go,” Morrie told Koppel. “When I have people and friends here, I’m very up.
The loving relationships maintain me. But there are days when I am depressed. Let me not deceive you.
I see certain things going and I feel a sense of dread. What am I going to do without my hands?
What happens when I can’t speak? Swallowing, I don’t care so much about—so they feed me through a tube, so what?
But my voice? My hands? They’re such an essential part of me.
I talk with my voice. I gesture with my hands. This is how I give to people.”
“How will you give when you can no longer speak?” Koppel asked. Morrie shrugged. “Maybe I’ll have everyone ask me yes or no questions.”
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