I have a reputation for colliding with other shoppers. When I do, I quickly explain about my restricted eyesight and make a joke about needing a driver’s license to operate a shopping cart. I couldn’t use that line the day I went shopping after visiting my mother a week after her stroke. While the stroke’s impact was mild, it changed the woman I knew. Her garbled words tumbled out of a droopy mouth, and she struggled to process thoughts already blurred by dementia. I was strong while I was with her, but by the time I reached the busy discount store, I feared that if I tried to give a reason for my carelessness, I would dissolve into a muddled mess.