Friday, February 3, 2017

The Cover Up

The call came from my wife as I waited in line at the bank. "I was trying to reach my phone, do you have it?"

Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I did, along with my own, one stuck securely in each of my pockets.

Two mornings later,  as I entered the parking garage, I reached for my car keys. And pulled out two sets, to two different vehicles.

Some days I remind myself several times of the tasks I am to perform so that one or more do not slip from my mental grasp. And then there are the cover ups, the lies told to make me seem merely lazy, not forgetful. 

"Didn't I ask you to close the window?"

"Just getting to it."

Tuesday is the night my wife and I eat with her mom. This week, as I left the office to pay a visit to my own mother, I let my wife know my plans and discussed when we would meet.

There is a deli on the ground floor of my mom's apartment complex.  As I walked through it, I dialed my wife to ask if she wanted me to pick up dinner.

I am not sure whether to laugh or cry, whether to consider this invasion in my brain a mere side show or the main event, a blip on the radar screen or a preview of coming attractions. What is happening inside my cranium?

My mom used to inform me that she couldn't remember "anything." This complaint seemingly was repeated for decades, and was dismissed by me as, well, if not nonsense, at least it's first cousin. She was fine, she was active, she was focused. But then one day she wasn't. Were these part of the same continuum, or mere coincidence, two ships passing in the night, or the Titanic about to kiss an iceberg?

I wrote a note this morning to someone who was switching jobs, wishing him the best of luck in his new position.  He responded shortly thereafter with his thanks. To make sure I got the last word, I replied, wishing him the best of luck in his new position.

I sometimes tell myself that I live in the 21st century and that a decaying mind will soon be but a relic of another era, that science will tomorrow learn the secret to scrub the barnacles off the hull and return the luster to its full glory. That my thoughts will be clear and concise, my short term memory long and my long term memory infinite.

But, for today, that is not the reality. So I study this piece to wipe away any evidence of repetition, any hint of failing faculty. 

I wonder how many of you who read this are nodding your head in silent recognition of your own frailties, or if you are merely shaking your head in silent meditation of my impending mental demise. I know I am not alone on this island, I am just not sure how crowded it is here.

The first light of day will soon appear and so I end this contemplation. I must prepare for the tasks that lay ahead. Ready or not, here I come.


Anonymous said...

Best of luck in your new position


Anonymous said...

My doctor assures me it's nothing to be concerned about until the morning you awake and flush your socks down the toilet and pee in the hamper.


Bob Labrie said...

Did you send me the check for the money you owe me yet? : )

Harvey F Leeds said...

You forgot to put a stamp on the envelope -I had to give money to t he post person!! Be careful don't brush your teeth with your wife's nair!!

Unknown said...

If I knew who you were, I might respond.

Anonymous said...

Me thinks it's the general malaise caused by the Cheetoh-dusted new inhabitant of the White House. Let there be no misunderstanding, this has nothing to do with purported low PSA results and the infusion of a medicinal intervention. The general depression is omnipresent. All those suffering are hoping for a quick recovery.

Anonymous said...

I'm still trying to figure out why you were waiting in line at a bank. Do people still do that? PB