This pretty much sums me up lately, though I'm not quite as ancient, and I don't actually smoke. In fact, my only vices these days are too much coffee and Publix fried chicken. How do I account, then, for my dwindling memory? I used to could tell you what shoes I was wearing when I talked to you on the phone three weeks ago on a Thursday as I drove to Walgreens to pick up Biggy's Prilosec. I could report the conversation verbatim and say how many times I got honked at for drifting into the other lane.
But times--they are a'changin':
Last week, for instance, I couldn't find my cell phone at work. I looked all over my office, in all the shelves and file drawers, under the stacks of student papers I'd forgotten to give back last quarter, and even in the trash can where, it turns out, I'd thrown away some important insurance forms. I searched Hank's office, and Claire's, before going upstairs to check the bathroom stalls and the area around the time-clock. Next, I went back downstairs, found my car keys on a stack of cd's by the stereo, then up again and out to my car in the parking lot. I looked in and under all the seats, under the floor mats, and in the side pockets. Thoroughly frustrated, I slammed the door, only to notice that the phone was in my hand--had been the entire time.
And today: I told Claire I was going to get coffee and asked her if she wanted anything. I drove the short half mile to Starbucks, where I couldn't remember if Claire had said yes or no. I called the school but couldn't reach her, so I decided to err on the side of generosity and get her a latte. Standing in line, I rummaged around in my purse for my wallet but couldn't find it. I opened it wide and looked closely--still, no. I shrugged my shoulders, returned to my car for the drive back to school. While I was at a red light, I started to put on some lip gloss and, reaching into my bag, found my wallet immediately. I almost didn't turn around, but I didn't want to disappoint Claire. So I did a big circle to Starbucks again and got my venti sugar-free hazelnut nonfat latte and Claire's plain-ol' whatever. As I arrived at school, hot beverages in hand, Claire was walking out the door for lunch, which is why she'd told me very clearly NOT to get her anything.
(It's amazing, really, how much that old woman looks like me.)
12 comments:
within the last month i have had a ct scan of the head and an mri of the brain because of those exact things you just described. but nothing is wrong. it's called pseudodementia, the key word being pseudo. the last time sadie was at my house she looked for her car keys, screaming at everyone to help her, for 15 minutes until she discoverd them in her hand. it must be familial.
Well, THAT'S not very reassuring.
um, I just turned 25 and I suffer from "pseudodementia" all the time. Just last week I walked out of Fresh Market without paying for my food.
It didn't occur to me I had stolen anything until i wondered why I didn't have a bag or any napkins.
25, huh? That's a LITTLE more reassuring...
Welcome to my life. They called it ADD when I was a kid, and I couldn't find my pencils...ever.
I can't find my glasses when they're on my face. My keys when they are in my pocket. My dog on her leash. I can't find anything ever. Don't feel bad. I think it has less to do with age and more to do with a lot on your mind and/or plate. That's my excuse, anyway. You can use it if you need to.
Nice "cigar" btw. Cheech and Chong have got to be envious.
i think it just means you're screwed. i lose everything all the time. i have duplicates of most everything i own because i lose things and then have to replace them and then end up finding them later on.
sometimes i try to put contacts in my eyes, even though i already did. and i look for keys that are in my pocket and a phone that i'm talking on and shorts that i'm already wearing.
we have a long lineage of faulty memories in our family, so we call each other "grandma" and laugh at each other and make fun of each other instead of worrying about it. grandma does have dementia, but we don't feel bad making fun of her. she wasn't very nice anyway.
Welcome to the club, Tania.
I recently found my phone in the refrigerator and my half and half in a cupboard along with my cans of tuna. I am constantly looking for things that are in my hands...keys, papers, cd's water bottles...you name it.
uh, Gay, in your case I think it's called Early Alzheimers.
Are you trying to *out* me, Biggy? I mean, you could at least call me "Gay Mary" and not just "Gay." I mean, "Gay" is so generic...that could be Collin or anyone...I think I'm a little more special than that...ask Tania...she'll tell you I'm not just any "Gay," I'm "Gay Mary..."
HEY! I'm not gay...
oh, wait...yeah I am.
Carry on.
Biggy just outed Mamoo, whose real name is GayNell.
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