Getting old

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This month I have a big birthday. It’s one of those moments that prompts one to reflect on past and future life. This is especially true in my case as the last couple of years have been a bit of a bastard. 

It started when my memory started playing tricks on me. It first manifested itself by my having problems stringing two things together. I’d set off to do something simple and not notice that there were actually two things that needed doing. For example I’d go to fetch something out of the garage and walk past something blindingly obvious that needed taking to the garage. No big deal you’d think. It just getting old. A senior moment. Until it happens multiple times a day. 

So we talk to the GP, a lovely woman that I’ve been going to for years. She suggests I talk to a shrink but before that can happen she needs to run loads of blood tests to rule out other things first. No problem. Off to the legalised vampires, tests done, and we’re good to go. 

So in March ’18 the man from mental health comes to our home to assess me and scares the shit out of my wife by telling her that I have dementia. He leaves her info on support groups and she toddlers off to attend some meetings anticipating no doubt my inevitable decline to a dribbling wreck. 

Except we’re wondering why this guy hasn’t reported back so we go back to the GP who is equally appalled. Eventually after much chasing and my wife attending more support groups the GP eventually extracts a report from the mental health man. It’s now August ’18 – 5 months later. 

Seems I don’t have dementia so I’m referred to a local shrink in down the road in Cell Block H. If you’d seen the building you’d know why we hung that label on it. I have a session with a consultant psychiatrist who seems to be very efficient and decides I don’t have dementia and would like to run some tests. Our reaction is a mixture of relief and wondering what the fuck the problem is then because it ain’t getting any better and I’m doing stupid things like forgetting why I went to that kitchen cupboard, forgetting why I opened the fridge, why I got up to do something, standing blankly in the middle of the kitchen floor. Those sort of infuriating things. 

And there’s a new manifestation too. I can’t see things that are there and do see things that aren’t. It like I looked at the kitchen table and my mind retained a snapshot so the next time I looked at it, my brain decides that it knows what that looks like so doesn’t need to reprocess. Very odd and very worrying at times. 

Anyhow this rambling on a bit so I’ll tell you more in a later post…  

2 responses to “Getting old

  1. No problem. The way that I overcome it is…. Oh hell, I have forgotten.