As I aged, I understood that my memory would inevitably deteriorate, but the speed and severity of this decline took me by surprise. When the time came for memory loss, I hoped it would first erase painful memories and gradually phase out trivial details—like every phone number and address I’d ever stored. Instead, I found myself repeatedly asking my children the same questions, unable to recall their previous answers as my mind raced back to my endless to-do list. Before long, I couldn’t retain a phone number long enough to jot it down after looking it up. My kids even joked—hopefully just joking—about safety-pinning a card with my name and contact information inside my jacket, in case I forgot where I was headed.
To counteract my memory issues, I began carrying a microcassette recorder to capture random thoughts, like “onions,” “laundry,” or “toy store,” that I desperately wanted to remember. While it provided some assistance, it also served as a stark reminder of how poor my memory had become. One memorable instance occurred while driving my son to a Junior Assembly; I noticed his shirt sleeves were too tight, and his pants were short. I asked him to remind me to buy new clothes for him when we got home. Not wanting to take responsibility, he suggested, “Why not record a message for yourself?” Great idea! I recorded the reminder.
But when the traffic light changed, I glanced at him in the rearview mirror and asked again about buying new clothes. “You just told me that ten seconds ago!” he exclaimed. Kids often claim they’ve shared something important, like a poor test score, so I didn’t immediately trust him. He smartly recommended I replay my last message to myself, which was terrifying: in less than fifteen seconds, I had completely forgotten what I had just recorded. (You won’t be shocked to hear I eventually lost that tape recorder—and its replacement).
My lapses sparked concerns about early signs of Alzheimer’s disease, prompting a visit to my doctor. She asked whether I was forgetting short-term or long-term memories. “Short-term,” I replied. “Information slips right through me!” Her response was reassuring, “At your age, that’s perfectly normal.” But I don’t identify with being “that age,” which always feels at least a decade away.
I wasn’t alone in this struggle; my friends were experiencing similar memory issues. Our minds were overwhelmed with our children’s schedules, school project details, and unanswered RSVPs, not to mention what I was planning for dinner. Often, I’d head to the supermarket for one essential item only to return home without it at least half the time.
One friend resorted to tucking notes into her bra, retrieving them at the store or wherever she needed to remember something. Anything forgotten at night would end up stuffed in there for the next day (she claimed it was cheaper than silicone implants!). Another friend had a more straightforward solution: she wrote reminders on her hand—the ultimate PalmPilot.
We began an informal competition to see who could share the most forgetful moment. I held the title until one friend revealed she tried using her car’s remote key fob to summon the elevator in her office building.
What else could we do but laugh and find a new perspective? My patchy memory has made me a confidant for others for obvious reasons, and I’ve enjoyed rediscovering beloved books, often not recognizing the story until I’m deep into the narrative.
Ultimately, I opted to embrace my memory shortcomings, ordering a personalized license plate that reads “IFORGOT.” This has proven invaluable during moments of confusion, like accidentally driving onto a military base or going the wrong way down a one-way street. It all makes perfect sense when I can’t locate my car in a large parking lot, and a kind stranger reads my plate.
In summary, dealing with fading memory can be alarming, but laughter and community support can offer solace. Embracing these changes, rather than denying them, can provide a more positive outlook on the journey ahead.
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