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by Judith Gayle Smith-Owens Vitouswykegardinerclark
07/20/21
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Five "senior moments" per day is all I will permit myself to have. When it exceeds that limitation - I go have an MRI of the brain to rule out all things organic. After several months of increasing "moments" - and after discussion with my patient physician, he and I agreed it is MRI time. Today. This very morning.

After all the clunks clanks and thunks - I sit here, still somewhat befogged and bemused over this day's events.

I will not bore you with the "when it all started," because I cannot truly recall when it started. For years I have been blaming Chronic Fatigue - which I do have - which can and often will mimic Alzheimer's. There. I've said it. My Mom was tested twice for it - didn't have it - just mild dementia. gurgle. Ruling out any organic issues, I will further blame it upon stress, depression, too much Velveeta, and aluminum pans.

Having fortified myself with crunchy peanut butter slathered on a raisin bagel - I continue with my disconcerting discourse. It is now Sabbath, and I wish to complete this before I forget it. Forget Sabbath? NEVER!!! But I am in danger of losing my . . . pray, do not attempt to fill in the blank. Blank what? Forget it . . .

After, post, apres - whatever the MRI, we have to make a bank transaction. I am holding the check to transicate in my leopard handbag, along with whatever else tried to jump into my bag after I cleaned it out this morning. Pulling two magazines, my wallet, my cell phone, my camera (my, my, my!) ad-nauseum/ad infinitum - I promptly announced that no check was to be found. Coming very close to plunking down on the floor and dumping my purse out for all to see - I was restrained by a "here it is!" from Mike, who I had made keeper of the two aforementioned magazines. Stuck in betwixt.

By this time I am so fully aware that my hair had suffered major upset over wearing my furry hat (cold today) - and that my six-pound coat was looking rather skittish with buttons missing (I have been fixing that coat for several winters now - you would think it would be grateful!) - not to mention I could not wear eye makeup for my MRI! Heinous! No - I will NOT post a photo of my face and hair. You are fortunate to get my chair, coat, hat, purse, and temper in the picture - I looked SO BAD that several people stopped me to tell me just how good I looked - I accused them of trying to make me feel better - and those rascals AGREED!

Sigh. Broke a nail today - trying to fix it only made it worse. Back to my story - had time after the bank to mosey around a spell until our bus was due at 2:30 - 3 pm. Yes - I didn't have to check the time - I had written it down after all! Scooted our scooters to a sweet little antique shop a block from the bank, just to kill time. Mike surprised me by gifting me with a pretty little pin I drooled over. I also drooled over some gorgeous antique furniture, but he just patiently wiped off my spittle. Picked up the sweetest little purse for Barb who is gaga over anything gorgeous. "I love you gifts". We love MIKE!

Back to where the lift bus was due to pick us up. No charge was left in my battery-operated chair. Had the time to sit and let it charge itself a wee bit, waiting for the bus due to show by 3 pm. 3 pm arrives - but the bus doesn't. Got out my written schedule and ruefully noted that I had written down 2 to 2:30 - NOT 2:30 to 3 pm! Abashed, cheeks aflame - I called Trimet Lift and prepared myself for recriminations, reproaches, and repercussions. I asked the dispatcher to please forgive me and send out their soonest bus to get us home before Sabbath which was at 4:26 pm this even.

The dispatcher informed us that our bus had still not arrived and that it was on its way! Do the math - unbelievable! Whereupon I suggested to the dispatcher that I remand my contrition from her, and reword it into a diatribe against the driver who was late. She sighed.

On the way home - at last. Ten minutes into the ride, our driver queried: "By the way - are you Judith Smith? I have been having some difficulties lately picking up the correct passengers . . ."

Okay - say what you will. You who know me will just shake your head and chalk this up to another of my adventures - but you have to admit that God does look after those whose minds are affected, yes? Yes.

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