You know me, and if you don’t, you need to read more of my blog. For those of you who haven’t read enough yet, I’ve had MS for 40ish years and its done what it has done so far. Bits of me have been switched off and my memory, short-term, has gone down a long, slow, slippery decline. That is not to say that my intelligence is going with it. I can still spell well and I know 6 x 7 = 42, the Meaning Of Life, for any Douglas Adams fans out there.
My gardener came in last Wednesday and he asked me about a large order I had placed for some shrubs, Purple Beech, to border our front garden. He wanted to know the delivery date and quantity, etc. Husband In A Hurry (HIAH) and gardener were discussing between themselves, the height of the shrubs, they asked me and I’m damned if I could remember! They both looked at me as if I had lost the plot. It’s just another example of how the eraser in front of my eyes removes information which I know I should retain for just such situations:
“Have you ordered my favourite muesli?” HIAH queries I’ve just put my nightdress on for bed, or, “Have I taken my tablets tonight?” They’re not my tablets!
They both think that I must be getting silly in my old age, along with my MS and it’s not that I am losing my wits or cleverness, but it’s my MS brain.
So, if you meet me in the street and I look at you with recognition, I know your face, but I can’t remember your name to go with your face. I will make polite conversation with you, fishing for clues as to where I know you from. I’m not being impolite, you will walk away shaking your head and saying to yourself, ‘She’s lost it, and it’s so sad.’ It’s not sad and I’m not stupid, I’ve just got MS.