Tag Archives: memory loss

Final Jeopardy

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Final Jeopardy

I don’t feel in jeopardy, don’t feel in danger.
I feel as protected as sheep at a manger.
I’ve deadlocks and bolt locks and high walls and bars,
passwords on my iBook, alarms on my cars.
With insurance policies paid for a year
on my car, house and health, there’s no reason to fear.

Jeopardy lately is something I’m lacking.
My virus protection secures me from hacking.
And as I get older, with more things to fear,
I’ll invest in a cane and Depends for my rear.
Now nearly everything has a solution.
It seems a development in evolution.

Our hides are less tough but our hearts just beat stronger
when we replace them so we can live longer.
We can buy a new hip or replace a bad knee.
There’s only one problem that I can foresee.
Memory replacement is what they should do
so we could remember where we’re walking to!

The prompt today was jeopardize.

 

Roundabout

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Roundabout

When we were younger, we all were amused
as my mom steadily grew more confused––
losing her keys and her glasses and purse.
Each year of her life, it seemed to get worse.
At tax time she snorted, she fussed and she stewed
as her simple receipts she sorted and viewed.
One thing at a time was all she could do.
She grew somewhat flustered when confronted with two.
It was a puzzle for those forced to view it.
With much less to do, she took longer to do it.

But now as my seventies get so much nearer,
what my mother faced is getting much clearer.
Once a multi-task wizard, I find even two
tasks at one time are too much to do.
When on the computer I now have to think
to accomplish functions once done in a blink.
The names of close friends I now search my brain for.
What once came so easily, I must now strain for.
I still have my memory—try to believe it.
It just takes me longer to sort and retrieve it.

When it comes to time limits, I just confuse myself.
In games like Trivia, I must recuse myself.
The end of my stories I’m often delaying,
for I can’t recall what I started out saying.
When I finally remember why I came to town,
I’ve forgotten the list where I carefully wrote down
all of my errands and then what is worse,
when I get back home, they are there in my purse!
I’m glad I’ve no kids with whom I can share
or they’d already have me in memory care.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/confused/

Ashes and Dust and : NaPoWriMo 2016, Day 25 and “Whisper,” WordPress Daily Prompt

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“After all our years have settled like dust . . .”
                                           ––okc forgottenman

Ashes and Dust

When that cruel wind
blows against memories
that have settled like dust
on our lives,

what  will remain
sealed in our crevasses
––fine furniture that we are
of a bygone age?

What remaining minutes
of a long life of years
will define us then?
A kiss? A child held in arms?
Regrets? Terrors?

In those storerooms
where people  sit
stacked in silent cubicles,
what zephyrs whisper through
to stir the embers
of their minds?

Is there music in those currents
or are they the sad
whining winds
that curl over headstones
and lament the dust that settles there,

moaning through cracks in attics
and around hanging eaves troughs,
causing them to swing and bump
lonely against the fading
wood of abandoned houses?

LIfe builds us and wears us away
like the mountain.
Like sand on the beach.
We are not above it all.

No matter how much power
we think we gain,
Nature is a wind that breathes
into us at birth,
then blows itself away.

The NaPoWriMo prompt was to write a poem making use of the first line of someone else’s poem.  You can find the poem by okc forgottenman that I drew inspiration from Here. The WordPress prompt was “whisper.”

 

http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-five-2/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/whisper/

 

Eye, Eye, Eye, Eye!!!

I tried to do today’s prompt, and even chose one person to mention, but then I couldn’t go on.  When I went through the list of incredible blogs I read every day, I just couldn’t pick three and leave out the rest, so instead, I am going to tell you about my pretty exhausting day.   Later, I will post my long list of admirable blogs along with the mention of one new blog I think you should read.                        

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                       Eye, Eye, Eye, Eye!!!

Two days ago I noticed that one of the lenses of my favorite pair of prescription reading glasses was missing. They are an especially beautiful shade of green—something I have found to be rare in glasses—and a good shape on me, to boot. I looked everywhere for that lens, with no luck.

“I’ll have to take special care of my only other pair of reading glasses,” I thought, as I woke up and put them on to peruse the blogging world. I had them on at the dining room table a few hours later during Oscar’s English lessons and half way through the lesson, Yolanda appeared with my lens to my other pair of glasses, which she had found under my bed! I was overjoyed and put it in the case with my “one-eyed” pair of glasses.

Oscar was finished so we went out to play fetch with Morrie. I’m hoping Oscar and his big brother will come play with Morrie while I’m gone, so was trying to make sure they would bond before I left. When I grew dizzy watching the toy soar out to be brought back by Morrie, I realized I still had my other reading glasses on, so I took them off and held them in my hand. One thing led to another and I soon started seeing dead palm fronds, candy wrappers the workmen had left, and other detritus on the ground. I put the non-organic trash aside to take up to the house on my return trip, but collected the other in my hand, taking it up to the gazebo to throw over the fence into the jungle of my “empty” lot next door. Although I’m on a hill so the ground of the next lot is from twelve to twenty feet below me, the castor beans have grown up taller than the wall and obscure the view from where I stand. I tell myself again that I need to find someone to clear the lot, then go up to the yard and return with another two handfuls of dry plant matter to throw over the wall before I give up and go back to the house.

As Oscar prepares to leave with his mother, I want to check once more that I’ve given him the entire assignment that will keep him busy for the three weeks until my return. It is then that I realize I don’t have my reading glasses! They are not on the table, desk, in the kitchen or bedroom or bathroom or on the porch. I then remember taking them off and holding them in my hand when we were throwing the fetch toy for Morrie. I check the terrace table, the gazebo, the bodega, the bodoga and every outside surface. Then I remember collecting the dead plants in both hands and throwing them over the wall, and I have a sinking feeling that I know where my “extra” pair of prescription glasses are!!!

There is no hope. The spare lot is a huge one with dense undergrowth and castor bean plants too thick and close together for navigation. There is zero chance I would find my glasses. I check my kitchen clock. An hour and a half before I have an appointment with Eduardo to give me an estimate on painting and concrete work. I jump into the car in my pajamas that look just like clothing––sans makeup or combed hair—and take off for my eye doctor who is blessedly open, since he splits his time between Ajijic, 6 km. away, and Guadalajara—a good hour away. I find two pairs of frames I can stand, have the assistant put the lens back in my green glasses, ask the two women in the waiting room to advise me on which frames I should buy, and order the glasses. They will be ready on January 4, when the office reopens after Xmas. I pay my deposit and drive back home, hoping I can keep the green glasses––and their lenses––intact and in sight for the three weeks until then.

I get home at 2 and Eduardo shows up soon after. We spend a good three hours discussing pool steps, the little terraza that needs to be built down around the gazebo to keep me from tripping over buried pipes and tree roots that jut up from the ground around where I have to go to turn off the irrigation system, the paint and salitre repairs and pool repairs. I explain to him that I need estimates and that my present contractor Chino will also be giving estimates. It is hot and I get dizzy in the heat, so pull down the blue canvas “wall” in front of the terrace. It is then that I hear the doorbell. I’ve been with people all day, and groan as I go to once again herd all the dogs into the back yard, secure the gates and go to see who it is. It is Chino, with the iron gate man! I usher them back to the backyard and introduce them to Eduardo, who comes out from behind the blue canvas “wall.” Chino looks questioningly at me and then I see the cans of paint we’ve pulled from the new cabinet to try to figure out paint colors. I feel like a wife caught in the act—with a different contractor!!

We retreat back to our seclusion in the shaded patio, which now feels almost secretive—as though we are trying to hide something. Chino leaves, letting the dogs back into the front of the house as he opens the gate.   I offer to give Eduardo a ride down to town, thinking finally I’ll have a bit of time to myself! It is 5:30 and I’ve been rushing around, seeing one person after another all day. I haven’t even finished the Daily Prompt!!! I go into the house to have my first private moment alone in the bathroom before getting in the car to drive Eduardo down to town, and then . . . the doorbell rings again! I cannot answer at the moment and pray that perhaps they’ll give up and go away, but no, the doorbell rings again. Then, a long pause, and it rings again.

When I am able to answer it, the dogs flock around me, barking. “Who is it?” I shout over the wall. I never unlock the door without asking.

“Luis!” someone calls back to me. I have an artist friend named Luis. Plus two plumbers, one electrician and various other acquaintances. I decide it is plumber Luis, who loaned me his propane tank and to whom I’ve been wanting to talk.   I tell him to wait while I put the dogs away, do so with some difficulty, having to close two gates behind them and secure a doggie reward along the way. I unlock the gate to find, not Luis Plumber but Luis, Pasiano’s son, five-month-old baby and wife I’ve never met. They’ve trudged up the long hill to show me the baby. I’d delivered a present to Luis a few months before at his workplace—selling rugs along the careterra––and he’d said they’d bring the baby to see me. We stand. I hold the baby. The wife is hot so I turn on the fan. I don’t think to offer them a cool drink, not realizing at this point that they haven’t driven. I am thinking only that I’ve promised Eduardo a ride down the hill and that I’m dying for some time to finish my blog and be on my own without people.

I’ve been with people since 8 a.m. this morning with no space. I am dizzy with fatigue and the hot afternoon sun. I don’t even ask them to sit down! We talk for a while and I then ask where they are going next. They say to his father’s and I ask if they want a ride there. But, when we arrive, I can tell Pasiano is not there. I tell Luis he’d better check and when he does it verifies what I’d guessed. Do they want to come back to my house or to visit his mother in San Juan, I ask? I’m taking Eduardo there and then we can go visit his mother and I’ll drive them back to where they can catch the bus; but they say no, to leave them off at the bus stop. Eduardo asks if I want to see his studio. I do not! I leave him off and go to Ajijic to pay my phone bill, since we have discovered my cell phone has been cut off. By now it is 6:30 and I am desperate to be home alone swimming or blogging or doing anything but driving, making decisions or talking to other people!!!

As I get out of the car, I realize the sun has gone down and with it the temperature. It is actually chilly outside. Luckily, I’ve brought my suede jacket which I put on. I go into Oxxo to pay my phone bill, grab a Coke, and go back to the car. As I do, I absently stuff the phone bill and receipt into my coat pocket, but meet with some resistance. I reach in and draw out . . . my spare pair of glasses! I then remember that I had put my jacket on when we first went out to play with the dog.

I must have put my glasses in the pocket, then taken the jacket off as soon as I got back in the house and so when it came time to look for my glasses, it had totally slipped my mind that I had had pockets to slip the glasses into after all! I turn the car on and drive home cushioned by the security that even though I’m slightly more worried about the state of my memory than I was this morning, at least I have the cushion of three pairs of reading glasses I’ll have to lose before going into a tizzy the next time!!!

IMG_9482                              Luis, Hernando and Alejandra. Happy family.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/press-it/

F

Re”tire”ment

When I was younger, my mind turned on a dime.
I did what I had to do in very little time.
But now that I am older, things don’t go so fast.
I’m not “spur-of-the-momentish” as I was in the past.

I don’t throw big parties as I did in former days,
for dealing with the details just puts me in a haze.
I can’t do many things at once without getting confused.
Now I simply write my blog while once I danced and boozed!

At first I felt ashamed of how my life is slowing down,
hating that I do not seek the company of town.
But then I noted patterns in nature around me
and saw that this is simply how our lives are meant to be.

Each thing in its season and each thing in its time
is how our lives are ordered—to accept this is sublime.
Why do I need to live my youth and middle age again?
Why not just accept that this is how my life has been

and go on to the next stage without sadness or regret—
going on to see just how much better life can get?
Yes, it is the pits to get arthritic, slow and hazy;
but we are compensated by excuses to be lazy!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Heat is On.” Do you thrive under pressure or crumble at the thought of it? Does your best stuff surface as the deadline approaches or do you need to iterate, day after day to achieve something you’re proud of? Tell us how you work best.

Mind Freeze

  • The Prompt: Overload Alert—“Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense.” — Gertrude Stein. Do you Agree?

    Mind Freeze

    There is new news all day long, for every single minute.
    By radio and television, we are immersed in it.
    Even on the Internet, they repeat and repeat
    every warlike action, every athletic feat.

    We know before their spouses do when politicians slip,
    view every starlet’s nightclub spree via a Youtube clip.
    Stock market scams and Ponzi schemes and other news that scares
    as big guys pick our pockets in order to line theirs.

    Sans Blackwater and Monsanto, we would be better off,
    but we’d still be deluged by news of Enron and Madoff!
    We consult Wikipedia to see what it might say,
    keep up with the Kardashians a dozen times a day.

    It’s hard enough to keep abreast of those they might be bedding,
    let alone to know the date of their most recent wedding.
    Who has gained a pound or two or who’s the most hirsute?
    This information makes our lives a Trivial Pursuit.

    There are so many details that come at us day and night,
    filling up our minds until our craniums feel tight.
    We’re stuffed with sound bites, news clips and every TV show
    until it is inevitable. Something’s got to blow!

    No wonder that we can’t remember names of our best friends
    or what we came out shopping for or how that movie ends.
    We can’t remember song lyrics or what we meant to do
    when we came in here for something. Was it scissors, paint or glue?

    I am forgetting everything I always used to know.
    Every mental process has just gotten kind of slow.
    It’s taking me much longer now to ponder each decision—
    a factor that the younger folks consider with derision.

    Like-aged friends agree with me, for they all feel the same.
    They all have minds stuffed just as full, and we know what to blame.
    There’s too much information, and like any stuffed-full larder,
    to locate things within them gets progressively harder.

    If we could sort our minds out the same way that we pack—
    putting unimportant stuff way at the very back
    and all the more important things in front and at the top,
    we wouldn’t have to search our minds and wouldn’t have to stop

    to figure out the names of things or places or of folks,
    and then we wouldn’t be the brunt of all their aging jokes;
    but it seems that we can’t do this so perhaps the answer is
    to just turn off the TV news and gossip of show biz.

    The scandals and the killings—all the bad things that astound us—
    we’d leave behind to concentrate on happenings around us.
    We’d notice more the little things in our immediate world:
    the spider in the spider web, the bud that’s tightly furled

    and notice when it opens, and the dragonfly that’s on it
    and take a picture of it, or perhaps construct a sonnet.
    See the children who are hungry and instead of our obsessing
    on matters where we’re powerless, instead bestow a blessing

    on all those things around us where we have the power to act.
    When we see whatever needs doing, to take action and react.
    Perhaps then all the horrid facts that rise up in the mind
    will settle to the bottom and then all of us will find

    the keys we’ve lost, our glasses, and remember why we came
    into this room and how to recall every person’s name.
    And all the time we save we’ll spend on the important things
    and feel the sense of purpose helping others always brings.

    The world is too much with us with its bad news of all kinds,
    and all this information simply freezes up our minds.
    Perhaps with less input, there would be less facts to astound us
    and we could concentrate on what’s important close around us.

In the Open

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In the Open

The day is balmy
with segmented clouds.
The African tulip tree
spreads its boughs wide
over the seated ones
as well as the one who stands in front of us,
leading us to ground our feet,
relax our arms with hands palms up
and to go inside ourselves
to watch our breath
and be in the now,
in the state that she calls openness.

To be in the future is not openness, she says,
and to be in the past is not openness.
Only the now is really living.
And it occurs to me
that when I think I want a cup of coffee
and leave my studio to go in search of it,
then, in the kitchen,
can’t remember what I’m there for,
(and the reason why so many
friends my age are doing the same)
is because we are in this state of openness
more frequently
as we get older.

Wanting a cup of coffee is in the future,
and remembering we wanted a cup of coffee
a few minutes ago
is having to remember the past.
Standing here in the kitchen
listening to the baby birds’
loud cheeps
from their nest in the kitchen overhang
is being in the now.

And so it is that all of us, as we age,
are in the deepest stages of meditation
most of the time
and should not worry so much
about Alzheimer’s or dementia,
because we are where Tibetan monks
and ladies leading meditation
would have us be.
Open. Living the now
with increasingly
less memory
for what was
or was to be.