I have been MIA, but not for the reasons you might think. Too busy trekking the countryside? No.
Too many commissions to take the time to write a post? Uh-uh.
Overwhelmed by a new book I'm writing? Ha! Um, no.
Two words make up the entire reason for my absense:
Fog. Brain. Or, Brain Fog. Your choice.
Of course you can't see me, but as soon as I typed those words I sighed long and loud. Maybe even rolled my eyes a bit while shaking my head. I am frustrated, my sweet readers – those of you who remain faithful to this blog, but I am trying to take things in stride.
I have been extremely happy – beyond thrilled in my decision to begin a very small dose of estrogen immediately after my hysterectomy last year. I'd been through menopause once (via a chemically induced therapy used to treat endometriosis) that turned me into a complete and utter nutcase which also nearly brought my husband to his knees, and I was not too keen on reliving that experience again, thankyouverymuch. The dose has remained very small and has knocked out nearly all of the symptoms one would associate with full-blown menopause – all but this one little troublesome hiccup that I seem to be really struggling with lately. My mind it seems, has taken a vacation from the rest of my body. I have days, weeks – when I cannot seem to put a simple sentence together. If I were living back in the days of the caveman I'd be considered normal because of my natural ability to grunt and point as a sole means of communication, but because I am not living in pre-historic times I have been keeping to myself a lot. This means little talking on the phone unless I have to, and when I'm face-to-face with someone? I do a lot of nodding while keeping my grunting and pointing to a minimum.
Today, I am having a better day. I took advantage of this mental 'lift' to type my few cohesive thoughts into words, then sentences – and I must say I'm surprising even myself. However, this afternoon while Craig and I were in a shop I saw an artistic lamp in which the base, I thought, looked like a jellyfish. I could not, for the LIFE of me think of the word 'jellyfish' so I did what anyone would do: I started motioning with my hand the way a jellyfish would swim in water. Great idea, right? Except that Craig looked quizically, wrinkling his brow and said, 'I don't know…..cow?' because apparently my gesture looked more like that of a farmer milking a cow. 'Never mind,' I sighed and waved my hand away. It was just too damned hard to think and it wasn't like he was about to get stung by a real one. Jellyfish, not cow.
Brain fog has not only altered my speech but has caused me to be extremely forgetful. As of this moment I have absolutely no idea where my shirt is. Yes, I'm typing shirtless. No kidding. Did I mention I'm also overly tired? I'm certain that I'd find my shirt right away if I wasn't too tired to get up and search for it.
Material items that have made my list of top three things to lose several times in a single day: Keys. Cell phone (just this weekend after asking if anyone had seen it, I did find it in short order – sitting in my lap) and lastly: purse. Also, I routinely get up from my studio to go into another room to do something but once I enter, I forget why I got up in the first place and meander back to my studio until the throught returns.
*another heavy sigh*
No, I am not crazy. I do not have onset Alzheimer's. Of this I have been assured by my husband who has done much reading on this subject lately (hmm…wonder why?) and by female family and friends who are going through the same thing as I.
Want to know the best medicine for brain fog? Hearing someone else talk about theirs. Then I don't feel so bad. Read on:
A good friend of mine was in line at a grocery store. She paid for her groceries while the cashier filled her cart with bags. She then put her purse in the cart and wheeled it all the way out to her car before noticing that she'd put her purse in an empty cart that happened to be sitting next to the one carrying all her food. She speedily rolled the cart back into the store, found her grocery cart still sitting at the end of the checkout lane, grabbed her purse, threw it in her cart and took off towards the parking lot again.
I laughed at this story, finding it so humorous and unbelievable that someone could do something like that; I would have told her so, too – had I not been immediately distracted by the fact that I was wearing only one earring at the time, having forgotten to put the other one in.
'S I G H'
Well, at least my painting skills haven't been affected too much. I do seem to be changing styles as frequently as a teenager changes outfits but if that's the worst thing that can happen, so be it. Here's my contribution this week:
For those of you who know exactly what I'm going through, I invite you to share one of your brain fog stories. If you don't, I'll just assume that like me, you had good intentions, but just forgot.