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Forgotten


This afternoon in the car I thought of something to say here. I've forgotten what it was. So instead I'll tell you what it's like to be forgetful. I'm sixty-three and fairly with it but there are definite signs of aging. Of course, I don't run much, except up the corridor to get to the phone. I can walk well and since losing a stone in weight I find it much easier to turn over in bed. I always have had memory lapses all my life and have developed a way of thinking through the alphabet to try to find the first letter of a word or name to trigger the memory.

My mother in her later years used to describe the phenomenon of not being able to find a word, as being like a washing line passing in front of her with the word on it, but if she didn't grab it quickly it was gone. It's a funny feeling knowing what you mean but being unable to bring it out of your mouth. This must be a tiny bit like the problems stroke victims have. We all come to it sooner or later. Just one more thing life challenges us with. How will you cope?
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