Whenever I forget something, I mean REALLY forget, I’ve been telling people that it’s because of chemo-brain. That’s my story.
That’s My Story, and I’m Sticking to It
Yes, I am 60 –ahem- +years old. I have many reasons to be forgetful; the least among them is a family trait. The busy-ness of this world is a good cause for forgetfulness, as is the tendency for most of us to try to multi-task. Traveling at break-neck speed, we attempt to build momentum and make-up for lost time. So we gather up chores along our path hoping to finish at least one of them, and instead add more.
Can you visualize? As a mother of little ones (my ship has sailed) we collect laundry, toys, school bags, lost homework, and an errand list or briefcase; while at the same time we are shouting orders to the kiddos, pushing them towards breakfast, finding shoes, then the front door, leaving notes for hubby to pick up what-not on his way home, dropping food into the dog’s dish, letting out the cat, and mentally making note of your last bible study and items needed for dinner. All of this is done while still holding the laundry, toys, school bags and lost homework. One hand actually reaches out for the permission slip needed last week for your grade-schooler’s field trip, and the hand then deftly reaches into the junk drawer and finds a working pen without the advantage of actually seeing it.
The Hurrier I Go, The Behinder I Get
At my age, the day goes more like: picking up laundry, dishes from the living room, medical forms, prescription bottles, and the hot pad while searching for the cell phone. I throw one corner of the bed cover into its proper place, walk to the other side of the bed, and pull that corner to near where it should be. I resume my walk, picking up dropped tissues and I nearly lose my balance. With my hip wedged against the bed to keep me from falling, I discover a lost stocking, a comb, and the bathroom scale under the bed and pull it all out. Hey, while I’m down there, I might as well be productive. I spend some moments straightening up and listening to myself groaning and moaning, and lay the scale on top of the bed. Yes, it’s chemo brain. That’s my story!
“Honey, I Can’t Find My Phone!”
I can’t find the phone, so I ask hubby to call it; and I lay everything down in the kitchen. I find my phone in my bathrobe, where it’s been for 6 hours. An hour later I cannot remember where I put the medical forms or why I came through the door. I again pick up the bundle, grab a vase of wilted flowers and food scraps to be thrown out with my other hand, and take all of it to the washer and lie it down with the medical forms on the bottom. The wilted flowers continue to wilt and the food scraps continue to draw fruit flies and I wonder what the smell is after I leave the wash room. Chemo brain is responsible.
I walk back through the house collecting items and chores, and with my arms full, stop to spray some window cleaner on the microwave door, walk back through the hall door and wonder where I put the window cleaner. The bottle is still hooked around my pinky. At least I am versatile. Oh wait, I stack mail under my chin.
I keep 3 small pocket calendars to remind me of events and appointments. Then I leave a sticky note on the kitchen dry board, or actually write it on the dry board or on the note-pad by my computer. Then I have to remember to synchronize the 3 calendars to match. I’ll do that later.
I think I will stop right here in my rocker and take a nap. Various items and mail lay in my lap, the window cleaner hangs from my pinky undisturbed.
It’s chemo brain. That’s my story. And I’m stickin’ to it. For as long as it works.
To make you smile, I can reference the bible where it says: “And let us not be weary in well doing; for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” Galatians 6:9
Yet, take this to heart: “Cast your burden upon the Lord and He shall sustain you; He will never suffer the righteous to be moved.” Psalm 55:22
April Boyer @ 2013-2017. All Rights Reserved.