- #1027981joybelMemberMember since: November 2, 2006
Replies: 33241joybel September 7, 2015 at 12:18 pm
How is your memory these days? Mine is slipping a few gears especially when doing crosswords, recognizing plants etc. I get frustrated and annoyed. If someone asks me a question which i Know I know but for the life of me it has snuck off somewhere. I now say ,” sorry, I do know, but not today.” Am told I am too old for dementia, seems it is more prevalent in younger oldies. Not sure about that. This interesting.
Read more from Allison here
Dr. Allison Lamont, Brain and Memory Foundation.
I’m sure you are familiar with those ‘tip-of-the-tongue’ moments! Times when the very word you were just going to use suddenly vanishes into thin air.
It’s on the tip of my tongueTip-of-the-tongue moments are usually accompanied by a strong sense of ‘knowing that you know it’, you will certainly know the meaning of the word and sometimes even the first letter, but the word itself eludes you. It is also accompanied by a strong sense of frustration! I am sure you know exactly what I mean. You will have discovered, too, that the resolution is just as mysterious and the word pops right back into your head, usually when all efforts at retrieval have been abandoned.”
Read more in GrownUps columns.#1641774tom-bMemberMember since: September 12, 2017
Replies: 2tom-b September 13, 2017 at 4:13 am
I’m currently transitioning from devoted ‘Caregiver’ for a dozen or more years (Talking about forgetting. I can’t even remember when I started) to ‘Home alone’ since two years back. Her demise was from Stroke to many ordeals including Back Surgery to Dementia right into Alzheimer’s. Everybody jumped ship but I. I was surprised how many people suggested just leaving or committing her to a facility. Near the end she did go to Hospice but more for her degradation to tube feeding and demands I could not meet. Forgetting is Hard. Remembering is Harder! I’m still active but all of the years destroyed my social life. Even church is hard to figure. So, it’s just me and my cats; I have two. It’s Black Cat and yellow Cat. Black Cat is also Tom Cat. I am glad he has a life away because he goes out and wants to share his joy with me. He brings me things… some times still alive. I try to explain but he just looks at me as if to say, “You’re No Fun.” Yellow cat just looks at both of us like she’s the intelligent on and we’re so weird. Teenagers!#1641780joybelMemberMember since: November 2, 2006
Replies: 33241joybel September 13, 2017 at 7:57 am
Lovely to read your post tom-B. Two years since my post was written. Can’t say I have deteriorated a lot and since then have lost a brother and sister, so am the last of my family. That is the cycle of life whichever way we live it. Lovely to have your cats for company. I could have one now as long as It stays inside but feel it would be unfair and I am not keen on a geriatric one. So there we go. Enjoy!#1641793sir-nigel-gresleyMemberMember since: January 10, 2017
Replies: 848sir-nigel-gresley September 13, 2017 at 9:34 am
Welcome aboard tom-b. Forgetting stuff is frustrating. I believe we have so much data in our old brains, it needs to shuffle around a bit until we come up with the answer, by then we have forgotten the question. 🙂 Wouldn’t it be great if we could ‘clear our cache’ like a computer, making room for more information, but then there are some things we like to look back on? 🙂
Caregiving is not an easy task, I commend you for your devotion, and admitting you could not do anymore than you could. Life for you has to go on, I enjoy my cats too, independent little blighters, until they need a feed. 😉
Happy Valley#1641875gabyoneMemberMember since: November 13, 2008
Replies: 2483gabyone September 13, 2017 at 7:04 pm
Welcome tom-b. Hope you get to enjoy the discussions on here & make some new friends. It is rather lonely when the friends & acquaintances disappear when times get tough for you. If you can find a grownups friends group in your area you could get a whole new social life.
Good luck & keep posting.
Gabyone Auckland region#1641911tom-bMemberMember since: September 12, 2017
Replies: 2tom-b September 14, 2017 at 3:41 am
I had an ‘Episode’ back in May of 2016. I had went to visit the cemetery of my wife, nearby. I had returned home and decided to shower. In the process I realized that my forearm did not move or support weight. Hmmm, What to do? I recalled my morning regimen and realized that I had deferred taking a morning aspirin. I had taken B-P meds and a Krill Oil supplement but neglected the 81mg “Baby” aspirin recommended by doctors. I decided to upgrade my dosage in anticipation of blood thinning being cogent. I couldn’t grip the baby proof cap on the aspirin bottle. Being ever so clever I found a way but not without trials. I popped a 324 mg full dosage aspirin. Then, I sat down to await the manifestation. After an hour without improvement, I decided to drive myself to an area of higher expertise. The doctor asked, “Why did you drive? Why not an Emergency ambulance.” My reply: ‘My left arm worked and the rest of my body was working. If it escalated I figured I could get off of the road.” I could see that he was questioning my sanity if not my cognitive ability to deduce and recognize danger. They took lots of pictures. It looked like a stroke. They admitted me, overnight. It was Saturday and a holiday weekend. I still needed a shower but my social schedule had been overwritten. I had a nurse from India. She came from an area or group of people who want to grab ones hand and hold it when they engage in conversation. I’m a bit more conservative. I never have been a social butterfly. I get by with a series of grunts and pointing. If I talk to normal people I have a “freshness shelf life,” of twenty minutes or less. After that, one has heard all that I know that’s pertinent and my vernacular becomes redundant. Okay… I’m a bore. Even more so than the initial twenty minutes from which one cannot escape. My second twenty minute wave for my Hindi hand holder included a story. That usually separates the wheat from the chaff. I told about meeting one of her countrymen (woman) near the border of Cambodia and Thailand. This lady came out of the bush attacking me with a homemade knife. It was a metal file ground down to a sharp point and one end stuck into a round wooden handle. I think she had intentions of killing me. That’s not new, everybody does. I disarmed her. I asked, ‘Who are you and where are you from? (I didn’t think she would deduct points for bad grammar.) her reply’ “I Indian.” To which I replied, “You don’t look like any Indian I ever saw.” She responded, ” I India Indian, not American Indian.” (Sort of like that Aboriginal girl I had met in Sydney. I had complimented her on her good tan. She had corrected me with, “I was born this way. I’m Aboriginal.”) Another conversation aborted. I’m a whiz at the misplaced social opportunity. I sort of became short term friends with Ms. India Indian. Her English was not well developed so it took her a few more minutes to reject me. My hand holding Indian nurse hung on just like she had no idea what I was saying. I’ve found that to be a sure fire method of continued verbal intercourse. If you don’t know me, we’ll get along fine. Ahh, my number had come up for C-T Scan & MRI. I lost my hand holder in the tunnel of MRI love. I came out with the doctors praising my overly active brain lobes. The next morning, several doctors and Specialist came by to ask silly questions and I replied with equally silly answers to same. One said, “You’re pretty smart.” I asked if I could use him for an employment reference. Another came by to say that I had good circulation in my carotid artery. “Yeah, every day’s a party.” He thought my “Episode” was plak dislodging and getting ‘stuck in my brain.” Apparently, my FULL aspirin had provided enough blood thinning to encourage full flow flushing. I figured it that way, “I’d heard it would while discussing such eventualities down at the billiard parlor.” Chalk heads are never wrong. The last doctor said, “You can go home but you cannot drive.” My hand holding Indian maiden was ready to grab her bag and join me. She looked like she might wish to now pull her own knife and engage in surgery on my, “Achy-Breaky Heart.”
Just beware of, “Indians in your cupboard.” They mate for life.
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