Foggy with a Chance of Memory Lapses

DSCN2380Hmmm….why did I walk in this room? What was I looking for? Did I have something in my hand?

In mid-October a dense fog rolled in like a briny mist, surrounding the city in its white breath, creeping into my head and wiping out the last thought I had. Hot swollen hands, burning knees and ankles cluttered my mornings, and I waddled around my apartment, as if each joint was bound in bubble wrap, trying to remember what I planned to do next. I stared at my computer screen like a deer in headlights, waiting for that flash of insight, my concentration lapsing in the face of my notes. I read my last typed sentence several times over, watching the words march like ants across the page and dropping into concealed holes in my brain.

We’ve all had memory lapses, but since the old lady arrived, my memory seems to be a bit foggy. I forget things when I leave the apartment, go back, and then wonder what I went back for; I forget why I’ve walked into a room, when only moments ago, it seemed I had a purpose. I put down my keys, only to wonder where they went. I’ve heard others talk about “the fog” and I brushed it aside just like the myth of predicting a change in weather through our joints. Are we sidetracked by the presence of the old lady? Does she devour our attention by her tedious pain and inflammation? Did I put my laundry in the dryer? Did I remember to pay my phone bill? Was I supposed to call someone? Where are my keys?

Wait a moment…what was I saying?

4 thoughts on “Foggy with a Chance of Memory Lapses

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    1. Hello Lynne, Thank- you. Yes, we battle on, live our lives and hope for a change for the better. I do hope you experience more good days than bad, and look for the positive in each moment. Keep up the fight and stay well.
      J.G. Chayko

  1. Reading this post takes me back about ten years. That was me then, enveloped in the fog. That’s the main reason I quit nursing. I was terrified of making an error. I could not live with that. So I packed up my old lady and hunkered down waiting for her to either take me away or go away herself. She left for a long while, now she’s knocking at the door again. I hope she leaves you alone for a long, long time.

  2. Thanks Irma, I find the memory lapses more of an annoyance than anything, but I could certainly see why it would be a fear if you worked in the medical world. How horrible to feel that helpless in the memory fog. I hope that old lady doesn’t darken your doorway and retreats once again.

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