I cannot relate everything I want to say in language.
I did not learn medical terms in medical school that diagnosis "retardation."
I did not hear the sound of my sister sliding out of my mom's vagina.
I did not see the sterile forceps that grasped my sister's infant skull.
I did not witness the slam of a doctor's door, the stubbing my father's toe.
I cannot name a person to blame.
I cannot know the pressure of a baby who "frequently regurgitated her formula."
I cannot feel for my sister.
I cannot describe why.
I did not "tell" like my sister.
I cannot identify the meaning of every noise my sister makes.
I cannot recount my sister during the years I spent sister-less.
I cannot narrate the experience of being brain-damaged and non-verbal.
I cannot voice my sister's thoughts.
I cannot relate every emotion I feel to a word.
I cannot recall every memory accurately.
I is "from my point of view, first person."