Last night I couldn’t think of Billy Holiday’s name when I heard one of her songs, and tonight I talked to my Keurig machine.
It won’t be long now, I’m thinking.
Observing one’s own senility as it progresses is probably a lot more fun than observing someone else’s. My trouble with names is the worst feature so far, but other words are now becoming elusive. Sometimes, in the middle of talking, I have to say “you know, the word that means the opposite of ___.” I find this pretty interesting, because it implies that words are stored along with their antonyms, or at least, in my brain they are.
I am also fascinated by my husband’s skill at retrieving names. He hates me to start a sentence with, “You know that guy in that thing whose name I can’t remember..” He has no patience with this but I keep telling him to get used to it. Soon, I will know nothing but old Dylan lyrics, as I have predicted here many times over the years. I’m great at playing music in my head, probably because there’s so little other cognitive action going on there.
I can’t follow Bosch any more. I have given up trying. I just concentrate on whatshisname’s cocked head and try to predict the dialogue. Every night when we watch TV, I can barely recall what happened in the previous episode. This might be the pot smoking or the late hour, or watching too many Netflix series at the same time, but it’s like, Didn’t that character die already? or “Do we know this guy or is he new”?
Do you believe that the more words you know, the more disturbing it will be to see them go? Maybe if you had a limited vocabulary, it wouldn’t be as frustrating to flail around in the black hole of your memory bank. Meanwhile, I am thrilled when someone uses words or phrases beyond the ones we all hear daily. My sister described walking in a sun-dappled field and I wanted to kiss her for being so descriptive. I’m still enjoying “contemporaneous,” as in “Jim Comey’s contemporaneous notes.”
What if senility lets me keep my old memories but not the words to communicate them? That will really suck. Wait. What happens to people who use sign language??? Oh my god. Do they just wiggle their fingers???
I intend to marvel at the process of losing my mind and to report my findings. If at some point I forget who I am, I’ll have my blog as a kind of dossier. I wonder what I will think of me.
Along these lines, or maybe not, today while we were out walking the dog, I asked my husband what he thinks is important in life besides hair. His answer was “manners.” I’m not sure if he was serious, but I agree that good manners are nice to see. Later, he came up with “food.” So now I have three things, or four when you add “love.”
What am I forgetting?
I wish I could help you, er, whatever your name is, but I keep putting my memory down and then forgetting where!
I also have a lot of problems with the name of that chap in the shaving mirror every morning but I tell him not to worry, it’ll come to me alter!
I found my keys in the freezer. I hope you don’t lose your mind. I have a fantasy that we have more good pranks to execute in the future.
That sounds like the weed.
Would it console you any if I told you I’d been this way since my mid twenties, forgetting words, names etc. At least you’ve had the pleasure of a wonderful mind. Mine’s a never was.
I have no name remembering ability at all now. Especially considering most people have 3 or 4 different names, across several social media platforms.
Faces and details tend to stay with me more. It used to bother me that I couldn’t remember. Not so much now.
Strangely, I do remember my memory leaving me. At a job where I was expected to do the work of 3 people. One day I was like “I cant retain all this anymore” and I let go of it.
And that level of ability never came back.
Oh well.
I dont mind. My new method of dealing is to care LESS. Caring more was making me insane.
I can never remember what day it is when I wake up. And it takes me much longer than it should to work out.
Had to call the teakettle “the water-boiling thing” and the keys the “unlocking things,” so I’m wondering what happens when I can’t retrieve “thing” either. I think lack of sleep, the kind that knits up the ravel’d sleeve and all, plays big in this. Plus depression hijacks your brain for its own evil use. My being an old fart doesn’t help.
Weird thing is, lately, I can remember numbers like crazy, a talent I never had before. I can look at a telephone number once and remember it for months, but who wants to remember that shit?
Everyone……..get your B12 levels checked. I can’t remember shit all when mine are low.
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My husband what’s his name is my designated memory at social functions..what’s his or her name approaching me with a big smile and hug ready arms…I started losing it in my fifties and it really bothered me. Now, it’s just habit. I do make sticky notes for the store, car etc. but, not as bad as a woman I saw once on Strange Addictions– she was addicted to gas fumes and would carry a coke can around full of gas. On her steering wheel there were two dozen sticky notes telling her what to do. That’s bad. And tacky.
I can’t remember shit. Just yesterday I kept picturing the guy from Cheers (see! can’t remember his name) who is in the new Planet of the Apes movie and I refused to Google Planet of the Apes for the cast and crew because I WAS DETERMINED TO REMEMBER HIS NAME!!!!! … I STILL can’t remember it. But anyway, my husband talks like you all the the time … “Hey Deb, remember that guy that works at the place we went to that time?” I just go along and say “yeah.” It saves time and frustration.