"Help me to sit," her voice weak, laced with pain I couldn’t understand. I gave her my arm, and she took it, she pulled herself gently, and slowly. Sudden movement was her biggest enemy now.

Since when did she become this weak? She used to be the strongest person at our house—taking care of everything, of everyone. She could do anything—I used to think she had a cape hidden somewhere in her closet. It was easy to imagine her as a hero, not a patient.

I...