Debi? Is that you?

I'm losing it! Book me a room at the home cause I'm coming!

I don't know what the heck is wrong with me, whether it's just menopause fugue or early onset Alzheimer's – having just read Still Alice, of course I'm now thinking it's the latter – but whatever it is I really am losing control of my mental faculties.

The other day Dave and I were coming out of the local hospital and I saw this woman sitting on a bench. "Geez," I thought, "is that my cousin Debi? Cause it looks like Debi and she works at the hospital..." As I was mulling this over the woman looked over at me, no doubt wondering why she was being stared at, and she smiled, so I thought for sure it was Deb!

"Hi Debi, how are you?" I asked. Brightly. With such utter confidence.

The woman's smile disappeared.

Dave nudged me with his elbow and whispered, "That's NOT Debi."

And I was like, "Really? Are you sure?"

Dave said, "Yes, I'm sure. That is not your cousin. She doesn't even look like Debi."

I looked at the woman, confused.

The not-Debi smiled again and said, "I'm positive, I'm not Debi!"

I apologized profusely and walked to our car, my face scarlet and my mind still confused.

A similar incident happened to me yesterday, only it wasn't Debi I imagined I saw, it was someone else. I wish I could remember who it was I thought I saw but I have drawn a complete blank. I remember being out in the car and seeing someone drive by and thinking it was someone I knew, but I can't remember who I thought it was. My short term memory is getting ridiculously short.

This memory thing is so frustrating. I have never had a problem remembering words but lately and often I can't seem to find the words I want to say. I draw word blanks with increasing frequency. Not so much when I write, but when I'm talking.

Like I said, book me a bed at the home, Mildred, I'm coming in.

Still Alice

Just now I finished reading Still Alice by Lisa Genova and it's freaking me out. I feel like I have Alzheimer's myself, like I'm losing my memory, like I've spent the afternoon drowning in a thick soup.

The book is fantastic. A page turner. You know what's going to happen to this woman, this Alice, a Harvard professor, a top of the line brainiac, who gets early onset Alzheimer's. You know it's not going to end well. You know you're gonna sucked into the miasma that becomes her life. You know that, but you have to find out what happens anyway so you skip heavy-hearted through the pages, hoping for a miracle you know darned well isn't going to happen.

I don't have Alzheimer's. Gawd, I don't think so. But my memory is nothing like it used to be and it wasn't great to begin with. Dave is constantly saying, "Don't you remember? I told you such-and-such yesterday," but I have no idea what he's talking about. Reading Genova's book exacerbated my own faulty memory problems and their surrounding anxiety. Having just finished the final page, I could swear I am still climbing to the top of a deep, dark, slippery well.