Synapse Fatigue
Synapse Fatigue
In My Bloodstream: Lisinopril, Amlodopine, Omeprazole, Tamsulosin
On The Stereo: Let It Be: The Beatles
We have seriously entered that netherworld of age, whereby the common has become the forgotten.
Our morning routine, for instance, has become exactly that - a routine. As my bride showers in preparation for school, I prepare her breakfast, and send her on her way. I ask, almost every morning, if she has her lunch, her car keys and her phone. She always replies in the positive. She often returns from the garage to get her keys, and twice, I have had to send her phone to the school by Uber. Most recently, just last week.
She often picks up a pair of glasses and leaves them in another room. They are often my specs, and I retrace her steps, finding them, as my mom used to say, in the last place I looked.
Thoughts are lost, in a similar way. Sentences sometimes begin with I was going to tell you something, and end with, I can't remember. Grocery lists are regularly left, attached to the refrigerator. And listed items are sometimes forgotten. And so it goes.
What's his name? Minor possibility of remembrance. What was the name of that show? A grimacing wait for a reply. I was going to tell you something, but I can't remember. Remind me later, to..... has no chance. Ever.
I am not picking on Kathy. I, too, have lapses in memory. But, as I am in control of the keyboard, I see no reason to talk about my problems. The blog is mightier than the sword. Or, in this case, the entire truth.
I will confess that I also had some moments last week, as well. On my way to Moffitt, I had planned to stop at Costco, a bit out of the way, and pick up orange juice. It was about half an hour into the trip when I realized that I had not brought our cold box and ice packs, to keep the juice cold. It was a warm day and the juice would be about four hours in the car.
It was too late to go back and I fretted all the way. I could not believe how stupid I was. I was irritated with myself. I will just have to by some ice. It was mandatory.
Costco does not sell ice. Now I know. Kat's birthday was the next day, and I bought a bunch of cinnamon buns for her and her students to celebrate. And the juice. I left for Moffitt, still on a slow burn. I arrived a little early, and found a Publix and bought my ice. The price of the juice was now going up.
It was now almost 1 o'clock and I was able to grab a quick lunch. I made several wrong turns while doing so. Good grief. There was now some level of frustration which was not needed just before my prerequisite "vitals check". Stupid little things working in concert to drive me mad. And the drive was short.
I worked, years ago, at CIL, with Bruno Lenarduzzi. His mantra to remember his everyday work things, was - Spectacles, testicles, wallet and comb. And he would touch each with his hand. Interestingly, I think it worked for him. He always had the full ensemble with him. At least I know the objects which were not permanent were.
In reality, none of this is significant. Really. Except for the phone. I do worry that Kat might get in a fender-bender, on her way to or from work. She would be lost if that were to happen. She does not travel far, but people do drive at Nascar speeds, and with race car aggressiveness. I know that to be true. Our population is almost evenly split between the young and stupid and the old and addled. Problems with vision, hearing and memory lapse permeate my generation. I do not consider myself young, but neither do I concede that I am yet old. A debatable contention made with my tongue searching for my cheek.
Obviously, I feel more comfortable if I know she can be reached, or if she needs me.
Of more consequence, is that her phone is required in school. It is a necessity in the event of a school emergency. Teachers are always to have their cell phones with them.
There are some who believe that older people have collected so much data in their lives, that the data withdrawal process simply takes longer. Overload on the input. Log-jam on the output. Needless to say, I subscribe to this belief. It is a perfectly formed theory. It is science.
And now that we realize that forgetfulness is a natural occurence, I have, out of concern for others, expanded the theorem even further. I would suggest that we older (and naturally wiser) folks have kept our brains so active, that they need some rest, from time to time. I refer to it as "synapse fatigue".
I doubt there will be any who would dispute this. It is well known that muscles need recovery time. So too, does our overworked brain. This makes eminent sense. Our tiny neurons have been firing off messages from our brains at record pace for years. As we add more years and use, those synapses need a coffee break. Science.
No more talk of dementia or Alzheimer's. These are too worrisome and serious for us all. At least while we are just at the "stubbing our toe" part of our lives. We are deep into a joyful and rich part of our lives. Each day brings happiness and clarity. When we reach the "stumbling and falling" part of our journey, and only then, will we need some help.
This couple is still in full stride.
And that brings me to my child bride's recent birthday. Another milestone year. It was mid-week, so our celebration was muted and somewhat drawn out. And the guest list was pared down. But the day was still oh so special.
The day began with my famous breakfast specialty - "Les oeufs Papatatta". Grilled tomatoes covered with egg. Salt, pepper and paprika for spice. Served with orange juice shipped in from Florida, fresh coffee, brewed with 100% Arabica beans. My café is superb. "Chez Robin".
Our girls (and their families) joined forces to give Kath a house cleaning service, and some beautiful clothes. She was thrilled.
She was given beautiful flower arrangements from them and the Traffords as well. Sadly, with the pandemic, there are no family members, friends or neighbors to share in their beauty. Ours was a party of two.
Most welcome this past week was a video call from some of our great business friends, traveling together in the California desert. The VanFossens and Palaceks were joined by Bill Langley and Bill Carly, to catch up on life and play some golf. That call was so much fun. As if life had stood still. Many years simply disappeared. Strong bonds never fray. We love each and every single one of them. And miss their company.
That is enough for this week. My poor overloaded brain requires rest.
I heard about Dr. Seuss. And his insensitivity. Who would have thought. I did hear that The Yellow Brick Road might be next on the removal list. Apparently the Scarecrow is offensive to people without brains. And it appears their numbers are swelling.
Again, last Monday, I visited the Moffitt oncology team, to discuss my latest pathology reports. The news was not good. We will deal with that next week, or a week after that. Kath is off work this week, so I, too, may do the same.
Stay strong.
jrobinmullen@gmail.com
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