I forget ...?

 

Forgetting is annoying—as I'm discovering more and more each day. Things are fleeing from my brain--abandoning ship. Memories, apparently, would rather drown than live in my head.

Things were not always so. I had quick recall, could play games like Trivial Pursuit very well. (BTW: I just had to look up the name of that game because I could not remember it!)

I remembered stories from boyhood, the names of elementary school teachers and friends, names of authors, of characters—even minor ones—in their books.

Last night, for example, Joyce and I were watching the 3rd episode of the Hemingway film. I taught Hemingway for years, have read about every biography, all of his books, have visited most of the major sites in his life (except in Cuba). So ... Joyce asked me who his fourth and final wife was. BLANK. A couple of minutes later I remembered her first name, Mary. I'm hoping her last name will drift back toward my boat before I have to hook it with Google. So far, it hasn't (it's 9:45 a.m. the next day).

I got it just now! Mary Welsh!

Okay, cheated/Googled it.

As some of you know, I've memorized about 230 poems and literary passages, but recently I've discovered to my chagrin, despite my continual practice, that they are joining those memories that are diving overboard.

I often can't remember the names of films, actors, directors, musicians, songs, etc.

I'm losing the  names of common objects--not permanently, but in quick conversation. "Joyce, would you hand me that ...?" I resort to pointing, and the word returns only after the time to use it has passed.

I sometimes look at my computer keyboard and can't remember the commands I've used routinely for decades.

Part of this, I know, is just normal aging, And part of it could be ... no, I don't want to think about it.

Awhile back, Joyce wrote about her mother's struggles with Alzheimer's—struggles that I often witnessed firsthand. (In a Tangled Wood, 1996.) Her mother went through the entire cycle—from Where are my keys? to Who are you? to What is food? It eventually killed her.

I don't think I'm on that path (I've had a number of brain scans, for other issues, and no one has told me that I've got worrisome markers or symptoms.)

So let’s eliminate that for the nonce.

But I have fashioned such locutions as this: Joyce, could you hand me that ... thingy ... over there. She’s excellent at reading my mind; after all, we’ve been together for over 51 years! So she knows the myriad meanings for thingy.

One culprit for this condition may be this: I’m on a cancer med that has made me dizzy 24/7. (I’m fine only when I’m lying down.) So perhaps this has affected my memory, as well. Who knows? I’m seeing my oncologist later this coming week at Seidman Cancer Center, and I think I’m going to elect to replace this drug with another one he’s suggested.

Yes, we’ll see if that helps. For Dr. (?) is very skilled, very intelligent, very compassionate. He, too, knows what a thingy is.