The last two weeks have played havoc with my mojo. I’m off kilter, on the scales and in the brain. I’m blaming forgetfulness and weight gain on the massive amounts of sugar intake over the holidays.
It’s ridiculous how much I’ve eaten, knowing full well it would give me indigestion, headaches and a foggy brain. I struggle enough as it is with being paranoid I’m going to develop dementia any day now without adding to the fog with massive amounts of Christmas cookies and pumpkin pie.
Those who have watched a loved one wither away from the effects of dementia or Alzheimer’s will understand my obsession with worrying I’m going to lose the ability to worry. It doesn’t help matters the media seems just as obsessed by giving the stats constantly on how many of us will eventually lose our minds to one of these diseases.
After looking for the beaters to my mixer for nearly 15 minutes I was beginning to think we’d been robbed, although it would seem strange it would be the only thing the crook would steal. Eventually I located them in the wrong drawer, and panic set in. It was a sign I was officially losing it.
Thinking back to the last time I would have had a need for the beaters I remembered it was to make the mashed potatoes during the holidays. My heart quit racing realizing the girls did the dishes and didn’t know where to put them.
To top off the paranoia, I struggled to remember what day it was during those two weeks between Christmas and New Year’s. It seemed everyone was off work or barely working, or I was getting up early to cook instead of work. I really had to think hard to figure out what day it was when I opened my eyes.
During one of the family get functions we played a trivia game and I knew the exact calorie count in a Big Mac. My first thought was, “Oh no, I’m able to remember stupid stuff, so my short-term memory must be gone,” to “a Big Mac sounds really good right about now.”
I did forget to make homemade bread for Christmas dinner and had to run up to the store to buy rolls instead. I forgot I had bought stocking stuffers last year and, at the last minute, while looking for something else, found them and scurried around to get them in the stockings before the kids showed up.
I’m blaming the forgetfulness on the sugar intake, or menopause, but come to find out I’m not the only one whose mind isn’t functionally normally.
The youngest daughter called to say she just did something really silly. She stuck her hands under the faucet to wash them, like she’s done a hundred times before, at her office, and the water wouldn’t come on. She stood there for a bit, wondering what was wrong, before she remembered it wasn’t an automatic and she actually had to turn the faucet on.
She thought it was a silly story, I called it the best news I’ve had all day.
Sandy Turner lives in Independence. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.