Sorry I haven’t written.
I have no excuse for not writing earlier–except for the obvious one that I don’t have deadlines. I never get anything done that doesn’t have a deadline.
I guess it could be argued that I don’t get that much done even when there is a deadline.
Of course, deadline is an interesting word in this context.
Overall, I felt great from mid August to the last week in September. Since then, not so much.
Symptoms come and go. Lately I’ve had trouble concentrating and I’ve felt confused. (You are free to write your own joke here.)
There have been a couple of times when I couldn’t call up the words to make sense of something I wanted to say. I’m trying to edit a possible post right now. It’s the kind of easy editing I’ve done all my life: rearranging sentences, some rewriting, some proofreading. Normally I could do that in a couple of minutes. This time nothing came naturally. So I put the project aside for a while.
That’s incredibly frustrating and more than a little scary. At times I’ve felt that I’m getting a little insight into how my mother felt as she grappled with early stage dementia. There were times when she knew something was wrong in her conversations and memories, but she just couldn’t get on top of it.
My case isn’t nearly as bad as hers, of course, and I remind myself that I had similar, but not identical, symptoms earlier this year. They subsided after a couple of weeks.
This stuff shouldn’t bother me, right? I’m way past my expiration date: I could die at any time. So why worry about long-term mental deterioration? I suspect that there’s some part of me that thinks I’m not really knocking on heaven’s door yet.