My brother Frank drove his car off the road coming home from work late one summer night in 1969 when he was a few months shy of 22. He suffered a serious brain injury. Although he couldn’t live on his own, he read newspapers and watched television, knew the names of presidents and governors, and had a dim opinion of them all.
For most of the last 20 years of his life, I was Frank’s conservator, first with our father, and then on my own. Read more.
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