Brain Fritz or Dementia

The Brain Fritz

To-Do Lists

Let’s say that I skipped last week’s blog because of the holidays. The truth, however, is that it went completely out of mind. I never thought of it until Tuesday night. I’ve heard that as long as you remember the thing you’ve forgotten within a reasonable length of time, you don’t have dementia or Alzheimer’s. I hope so. Still, it is wholeheartedly disconcerting when you realize that something you needed or wanted to do just vacated your brain until it felt like returning.

I can no longer survive without to-do lists. I usually remember to check the tasks and cross off completed ones. Groceries? Even if only three items, I require a list these days. The one problem with this approach is forgetting to add a task to the list, or as with the blog, thinking I don’t’ need to, but I think I can say that doesn’t happen frequently. Money being tight this year, I didn’t bother with my usual list of what I’d bought for whom. Big mistake—I’m still checking bags and corners for any item I may have forgotten to put in a stocking or under the tree.

Loss of Words

I hate it even more when I recognize that I’m forgetting something and it won’t come back to me. Typical for everyone: What did I come in here for? I especially hate writing or talking and being abruptly halted because a word I need or know would be perfect in the sentence won’t materialize. I remember its meaning, can look up synonyms in the dictionary and sometimes find the exact word I want when writing, though it certainly takes more time. Doesn’t work of course when speaking. I feel like an idiot when the word I require to make a request on the phone disappears on me and I stammer, rooting around for a comparable word.

Maybe, for those of us with family histories of brain-function loss, the brain fritz is scarier. Are we getting it? I think for next week I’ll do some research on symptoms of serious disease versus every-day-life business overloading our brains. I should probably add it to my list.

Books--Romance

Books I’ve Read

As I said two weeks ago, I read about thirty books while in Georgia, mainly as a stress valve. Many, I found at my mom’s. They were mostly older works, some writers I was unfamiliar with, some popular. I’ll write about them in categories.

Romance

I found six romances from Judith McNaught from the eighties. Tender Triumph—just what you’d expect from a romance title, isn’t it?—was set in the contemporary world, though the main character, typically, was a virgin who just hadn’t found the right guy. Had the usual bones of the romance—girl meets boy, conflicts ensue, are resolved, and they end up together. The ending was a bit anticlimactic after the buildup throughout the book. Nevertheless, a quick read that held my interest.

Double Standards, also written in the early eighties, was a bit dated but Judith McNaught has the writing skill to make it entertaining. This one was also set in the contemporary world. Once and Always—typical title for a period piece—was better than her contemporary novels. Her characters tend to have similar traits in each book, but in this one, the ending better fit the novel’s buildup. Almost Heaven (I read these in the chronological order Judith McNaught published them) showed better skill at building and resolving conflict. Another period piece, character traits still similar book to book, but the plots are very different. I have two more of hers I look forward to reading.

I’ve read Lavyrle Spencer before, though I can’t remember what. Vows is a historical romance, more realistic than Judith McNaught’s, which is more escapist reading, but both know how to bring the reader on a fun ride. Spencer gave an interesting look into the Midwest of the 1800’s and more realistic traits to characters and conflicts between characters you could imagine as being real people.

A Love of Her Own by Maggie Brendon was engaging despite a slow beginning. Christian romance, it avoided being overly preachy. A potentially important conflict between the main character and her parents (she fell in love with someone they wouldn’t have approved of) was thrown away in an ending that felt as though she suddenly felt that the book had become too long and she had to rush to finish it. Not that the rest of the plot was all that realistic, but the ending jolted.

The Familiar Life Dies

The Familiar Life Dies

 The death of a spouse goes deeper than the loss of a person. You also lose the life built on being a couple, in home and outside of it. Grief may be compounded by awkwardness in your social circles. Still attached couples wonder how long do they keep expressing condolences. Do you invite the friend in mourning to parties or nights out as a fifth wheel or chance a faux pas by introducing another single person to even the group?

Personal security, especially in the financially insecure and elderly, may be obliterated. My mom moved away from us kids—we call every day—has one relative nearby, and though he and his wife are wonderfully caring, they have their own busy life. My parents weren’t the group-joining kind and made one friendship in a neighboring couple who have also been very solicitous.

Still, most of the day is spent alone. Apparently it’s not sufficient motivation to move closer to us. While we were growing up, we rented three different houses. My dad, for whatever reason, refused to buy a house. My mother saved, bought a house in Massachusetts for their retirement, and told him he could come along or not—his choice. He went of course. They moved to a second house in Georgia to cut costs, mainly from fuel expenses. Even after ten years of living there, my dad hadn’t insured it.

The hard-earned, hard-won house has become my mom’s safe place. All her dreams of a good life are tied up in owning a pretty house. Selling it and returning to renting an apartment, even if it’s closer to her family, feels like failure rather than a new chapter in life she doesn’t want but might be forced to accept as her health deteriorates. As her loved ones, we have to ask ourselves if it’s kinder to leave her where she feels safe and, with fewer people to watch over her, where she will probably die earlier or to insist she move and chance her dying from miserable anxiety. Sometimes no good choice exists.