The Beginning
My father lived with chronic metabolic illness. Every day, my mother became his manual regulator - tracking vitals, adjusting routines, pouring her energy into stabilizing a system that was never designed to be managed by hand.
When his energy crashed, the irritability and exhaustion weren't character flaws. They were mitochondrial blackouts - his cells simply running out of fuel.
It took years to understand what I was really watching: a body crying out for a physical solution, not another pair of human hands.
