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This is sort of a cross between an Oopsie and a Wowsie. You all know what an Oopsie is. I’ve been pointing out and making fun of my errors, mistakes, and lapses in this space for quite a while. This one started out as the former and ended up the latter.
I
have a nightly routine upon retiring. After cleaning up (I’m a morning shower
person), I turn back the covers, make certain everything is where it should be
(my cell phone in case it rings at night, a hankie for my sniffles, etc.). Then
I touch the top of the urn on my chest of drawers and say goodnight to my late
wife, Betty, before turning out the light, settling in bed on my right side,
and covering up. The other night, I followed my usual procedure. After a couple
of minutes, I realized something was wrong. I opened my eyes, turned on my
back, and looked around. It took about sixty seconds to identify the problem.
I’d forgotten to turn off the light. I struggled out of bed, remedied the
situation, and then laughed at myself before thinking about what had happened.
That’s
when the thing turned for me. The fact that I’d left the light on
that made it an Oopsie, but the fact I’d had to figure that out turned
it into a Wowsie.
We
all recognize that age brings changes to the body…sagging muscles, droopy skin,
our frames expanding horizontally and shrinking vertically. We accept it
even…with varying degrees of grace. But I wasn’t prepared for the mental
changes I’m experiencing.
A
few years back, I would have said “Dammit, I left the light on,” bounded out of
bed, snapped
it
off, reclaimed my place on the mattress, and gone to sleep. Well, I probably
wouldn’t have left the light on in the first place, but that doesn’t make my
point. That particular night, I had to figure out what was wrong
and then clamber out of the bed.
To
put a finer point on it, I seem to process stimuli in a different manner than
in my salad days. In considering the situation, it is probably easier for us to
accept the physical aging because we look in the mirror a couple of times a day
and see what time is doing to our physical selves. But we can’t look inside the
brain (without medical help and a lot of expensive technology), so it’s easier
to discard or ignore what’s going there. We casually dismiss mental missteps
with an, “Uh-oh, I just had a senior moment.”
I
don’t know why this comes as a shock to me because my mother died a few years
back (at age 97) from Alzheimer’s. No, I don’t think I’m going into Dementia, but
does anyone know if there’s an earlier stage called Confusia?
Best
to you all,
Don
Next week: I have an idea, but it hasn't gelled yet.
New posts are published at 6:00
a.m. each Thursday.
Definitely confusia! I'll start using that term...if I can remember it.
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