Bob worked very hard all his life. He fixed things, built things and had large strong hands covered in callouses. For him those callouses were his battle scars in a way. He was quite proud of the work they represented. Yesterday while in the car riding home from "work" (code for Adult Day Center) Bob was talking about how beat up and calloused his hands are and have always been, and then looking down at his hands (hands that now have not touched a saw or piece of wood for many years) and strange confused silence came over "Al's" face. He inspected his hands turning them from top to palm and back again rubbing his fingers over the now soft and thinned skin. Then he finally turned and looked at Sheri and said well I guess they are not calloused any more I wonder what happened? It was for a Sheri a moment of sadness as she saw Bob having just the tiniest bit of self awareness. The thought left "Al" quickly as he went on to comment on the same things he says on the way home every day.... but another small piece of Bob left in the car yesterday.
Sheri hates this disease.
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