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Losing the adhesion in my memory

Losing the adhesion in my memory

Pardon me if I previously have addressed this subject in this little corner of cyberspace, but I simply can’t remember whether I did or not.

You see, my topic is memory loss. Mine.

So while this little matter is fresh in what’s left of my mind, I figured I’d better crank out this epistle while my synapses are temporarily firing on all cylinders.

Now, I don’t want to give the impression that suddenly I don’t know my name or the names of my loved ones.

Of course, it’s hard to forget your name when the loved ones in your life keep taking it in vain.

And when you can count the names of your loved ones on one hand and still not run out of fingers, it does somewhat reduce your memory’s margin of error.

Speaking of names, that’s where I do find myself drawing enough blanks to concern me. I hate it when I can’t put a name to a familiar face.

It’s bad enough when the face belongs to only a passing acquaintance, but it’s downright awful when the face is attached to someone I’ve known for years.

The face without a name will babble on as I try to retrieve his or her name from my memory banks. But my inner Rolodex has been slowed by the cobwebs of time.

But what’s much worse is when I have utterly no idea who the person is. Not only don’t I remember their name, I don’t even recall their face.

Compounding matters, frequently these folks without a name or a familiar face act like I’m their long-lost brother or something.

Then I feel absolutely terrible.

In fact, there have been times that I’ve been in a real panic, trying to place a person, wracking my diminished brain cells until they spew black smoke.

Actually, I’ve gotten pretty good at making banal conversation as to not reveal my total ignorance of the identity of the person I’m speaking with.

But not always.

One time a lady called me on it. After hemming and hawing through about seven minutes of awkward chit chat, she finally blurted out: “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

For a tantalizing moment, I considered responding with, “Sure, you’re the reigning Miss Universe.” But wisely thought better of and simply fessed up. The conversation quickly ended.

Outside of my wrestling with names as if they were a crab claw, currently my only other memory loss issue is I periodically forget whether or not I shampooed while in the shower. To make sure, I will shampoo once again – I think.

What I worry about is whether my memory loss is a progressive condition, one that eventually will turn my few loved ones into a forgettable mini-bunch in my mind’s eye.

No wonder they inquired recently about whether I have them in my will.