Memory Struggles

I don't know when, but at some point my memory began to fail.  I'm 69 years old now, so perhaps I should expect this.  I don't like it and I don't want to accept it.  Being the hypochondriac that I am (that's a whole other blog), I wanted to see if my brain was rotting...or whatever brains do when they are no longer fully functional.  My long suffering primary care doctor (the woman is a saint) ordered a brain MRI.  The results: "Very mild chronic small vessel ischemic changes of the supratentorial periventricular and subcortical white matter." Sure.  That sounded troubling to me, but my primary care doctor wasn't concerned.  

On the positive side, it's interesting to see all the new sights everyday that apparently I have seen thousands of times before.  On the one hand, it's nice to be happily surprised...a lot.  I ask my husband, "have we been here before?" to which he often replies, "countless times."  Hmmmmm.  Nope, don't remember seeing them.  I am now dependent on my GPS to tell me how to drive to places to which I have driven thousands of times.

I think the most challenging and embarrassing part of this journey is my inablilty to recall people's names, or to remember that we've met before.  I find myself constantly explaining that it's nothing personal, and I am sorry, but I just can't remember.  Sometimes I have to walk away before I start to cry.  It is so fucking frustrating (excuse the language, but the F-bomb seems appropriate).

So, is this something I have inherited?  I subscribe to Ancestry and I can spend (read waste) hours and days looking for my ancestors.  Given that my maiden name is Kelly and my mother's maiden was Smith, ancestry searches get me frustrated.  My maternal grandfather seemed to be normal enough, except that he changed his last name, thus the last names of his spouse and children, from Meyer to Smith.  I think he was concerned about the German or Jewish connection the Meyer name might evoke.  The 1940s were difficult times.  I do know this much for sure: my paternal grandfather committed suicide and my paternal grandmother had something going on that made her quite wacky at the end.  I was 16 when Nana died and I had visited her in the hospital.  I forget exactly what was said, but I remember it was funny and sad.  My sister and I used to laugh about it.  Not so funny now...

Everyday I tackle Wordle and I win!  Yay!  I also tackle Lumosity, but it frustrates me.  Bill and I play Scrabble a lot.  Bill's a math guy and I was an English Literature major, so I win 99% of the time.  I'm a poor loser, so maybe Bill lets me win.  

Bottom line:  I am NOT giving up on ME.  I will fight on with the damned doctors, tests, puzzles...whatever it takes.  Oh, and if I see you and I struggle to remember your name, give me a clue, please.  

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