I have gotten a mile away and turned around. The act of hitting the little button on my remote is such a programmed response, so automatic, I have trouble recalling if I had done so or not.
I know the door is down. I have YET to go back and it be open.
At night... in the course of feeding the damn dog, I will open the door to the garage to make sure the garage door is shut. Again, I KNOW I closed it when I got in... But why do I have to check? (And sometimes, less than a minute later, RE-check because I forgot?)
When I was discussing this phenomenon with family and friends, TO A PERSON, I got "You do that too? I thought it was just me!" or some variation thereof.
Yesterday, walking around my beloved Scarborough, was talking to my friend Miracle. Somehow, the song "She's A Beauty" came up. Neither of us could remember the artist (Read the title again. You're welcome!). It was the kind of aggravation that comes with the single thought of...
"DAMMIT, I KNOW THIS!"
I remember that our phone number at 511 Johnson Dr., Duncanville TX, from 1980 to 1986 was 296-0572.
I remember waking up from eye surgery and seeing that they had put a bandage over my stuffed animals eye to match my own. And then puking up the scrambled eggs I tried to eat. I was four.
I remember the first comic book I got, and could really understand, was The Uncanny X-Men, #167.
I got it from my cousin Keith. It really started my reading of the comic books that continues to this day.
I remember hearing Led Zeppelin IV in it's entirety for the first time. December of 85.
I remember what song was playing when I lost my virginity (Thank you, Led Zeppelin! When the Levee Breaks INDEED!).
I remember the combination on my first locker at Augusta High School, in the Sophomore hall. 1-42-05.
I remember my great grandmother teaching me how to clap loud enough to scare away the neighbors marauding mutts.
I remember the night I first drove into town after getting my driver's license... I got a flat.
I remember my grandparents basement... It was basically a hole, with rocks along the walls with some Elmer's glue to hold them together. I remember the older cousins would be down there, discussing girls, or other "teenage" stuff and telling my five year old self, that "If you come down those stairs, the ants in the walls will swarm out and eat your skin off!"
I remember living at my grandparents when I was 18 and STILL being scared to go down to the basement.
Point being, I have a pretty good memory. I treasure it. I can recall somethings with such clarity, it shocks me. Other times, it will take a audio stimulant... A song comes on the radio and I'm there.
Of course, a certain smell can trigger them... I can not smell honeysuckle and not be taken back to walking to Central Elementary in Duncanville, up Goldman St., and the house at the corner of Freeman had their fence lined with the stuff...
These days, I think of not being to recall a song's artist, or if the damn garage door is closed, and I worry about my memory. Hell, I had to review the blogs I have written to make sure I had not covered this topic... Slipping, man.
Take that to the Nth degree... Alzheimer's...
Out of all the maladies that can befall a person, I can think of nothing more cruel than this wretched disease. A person can otherwise be of good health, and the one thing that makes them "Them" is slowly eroded away.
We are the culmination of these imprints, these memories. They make us who we are. To have that stolen? No greater affront. No greater tragedy.
About 1.5 years ago, I was passing through the lunch room, getting some water. I said hello to the co-workers present. They were watching the news at noon. I was hoping to catch the weather.
The story was about an Alzheimer's Survivors group. The people who had lost someone to the disease. From the footage being played, if the sound had been removed... You would have thought it was a "Mega Millions Jackpot" winners group... Smiles. Happiness. Joy.
These were people who cared for loved ones for years, and the loved ones had forgotten them... These were people who exemplified the "In sickness, and in health" AND the "Til death do us part" areas of the vows...
In the one on one interviews, you could feel the dichotomy of the individuals. Combating the feelings of joyous freedom, and the feelings of assumed selfishness.
They knew that they should not feel "Joy"... then in the same breath, make an outfuckingstanding argument as to why they EARNED that "Joy". To have cared for someone you love WHILE watching that person, the person they were, slip away... Heartbreaking... No... A broken heart mends... It was heart wrenching... where the heart is twisted like a wet dishtowel and wrung violently, the emotions expunged... forced out by gripping unseen, iron-like fists...
Look to your loved one, could be a spouse, could be a parent... Think of the days you spent laughing. The days you spent crying. Think of that ONE day... The one that solidified your relationship with one another. That ONE day that is no one else's. It is the defining day of you and your loved ones essence.
Now... erase it.
Worse... Imagine the person you love not remembering it.
As this vile thing progresses... Imagine them not remembering you.
I tear up at the thought. I am more scared of this befalling me than I am of the flesh eating ants in my grandparent's basement walls.
______________________
The next trick is to not spend too much time remembering the past, that you neglect to make MORE memories.
Then lament the fact that all we have now are tumblr accounts, Instagram and Facebook feeds.
We're doomed, but at least we won't be able to remember why...
It's a sin that somehow
Light is changing to shadow
And it's casting it's shroud
Over all we have known
- Pink Floyd
On the turning away,
d
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My grandmother has Alzheimer's. It totally Sucks for us, but she's oblivious to what she's forgotten. She's at the stage where she doesn't recognize any of her family. But she swears there are monkeys and deer that come out of the trees outside her room at her needing home, to get treats from her at her window. She won a coloring contest at a county fair the home took all their patients to... every time they would show her the coloring, and tell her she won the contest, she would get really excited and say "I did that!?" She's thrown her walker out in the hallway and yelled at the nurses to stop putting that goddammed thing in her room before she trips over it, then when the nurse comes in to see why she's so upset, has no idea what she's talking about and thanks her graciously for finding her walker. It's one cockeyed bitch of a disease and I hate it! I have a ton of memories with her, but it is not the same.
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