Foggy, Foggier, Foggiest

Posted: November 16, 2013 in Family, Health, Humor, Migraine, Psychology, Uncategorized
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Sometimes I wonder if I’m in early onset Alzheimer’s Disease. I know that’s not funny to people who actually have been, or have loved ones afflicted with it. And I’m not making fun. I have become so dingy that I have worried a little bit if I might be getting senile. I comfort myself by telling myself that Mother ReloVertigo has always been at least as dingy as I am now, and she is still an industrial engineer. She’s a brilliant woman. Still a ding-dong. I remember Mr Relovertigo, once we’d been together awhile, watching my mom do something particularly batty, looking at her, then me, then saying, “Now I know where you get it.” That wasn’t the best way to the key to my heart. Of course, that was long before I realized that I had become my mother.

Brain Fog

Image by geralt via pixabay

If you know a migraineur well, especially a chronic migrainuer like me, you will eventually hear the term “brain fog.” It’s not a scientific term, though it should be. It’s something most of us say to cover a plethora of issues we experience as a result of the damage we believe migraines do to our brains. On the low end, it’s the inability to focus while we’re in the midst of high pain. On the high end, it’s the loss of vocabulary or memory. That high end doesn’t sound so bad, until you experience it.

The weirdest things can happen with brain fog, and sometimes we laugh. Sometimes we get a little shaken up. I’ve cried. One problem that seems to be increasingly bad is my inability to come up with the correct word while speaking. I will be able to call up a word with the same first letter almost without fail. But I’ll know it’s not the right one. Sometimes that’s really frustrating. And it seems really odd, doesn’t it, that I can write like this, but I have trouble when I try to speak? Different parts of the brain, I guess.

Once, we were all at a restaurant, me, The Mr, Junior ReloVertigo, and his little family. We were all ordering our breakfast. I heard with my ears and felt with my mouth, the words, “four pieces of extra crispy bacon.” When the waitress delivered our food, she passed my plates down to me. After we all had our food, she walked away. I began to butter and jelly my toast. And then it hit me. I didn’t get my bacon. And I didn’t ask for any toast. So, why the heck did she give me FOUR pieces of toast? Who eats four pieces of toast? Not me. I voiced my confusion. Everyone stared at me, then looked at each other. I could see they thought I was nuts. I asked what were the looks about.

“You didn’t ask for bacon,” said Junior’s fiancee.

“Yes, I did. I asked for four pieces of extra crispy bacon, just like always. I never ask for toast. And I sure don’t ever ask for four freaking pieces!” I spat back.

“Yes you did,” they said in unison.

All three adults said I had asked for four pieces of toast. I was completely weirded out. It couldn’t have been a simple misunderstanding, because “four pieces of extra crispy bacon,” and “four pieces of toast” are only alike as far as the four pieces. After that, they are nothing alike. Not even if I mumbled. I was very disturbed by this. Later, I found out that this is not an uncommon occurrence for chronic migraineurs. I learned this through others’ personal anecdotes. I haven’t been able to find any scientific study on it. I sure would like some, though.

Puzzle

image by geralt via pixabay

That was the weirdest. Usually, though, it’s just dumb stuff. Today has been full of dumb stuff. I seem to get dumber the higher the pain goes, too. I started this morning with coffee, as always. I pulled out the Splenda packets, opened them and dumped them into my cup of coffee. It was only afterward that I realized that I had just dumped four Splendas into my coffee. I started yelling like the Hindenburg was going down. “Oh my gosh! What did I do? I just dumped all of those in there! What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking, that’s what I was thinking! What the frack am I going to do now? Oh crap, and I can’t even remember how many I usually put in there EVERY FREAKING DAY OF MY LIFE! What’s wrong with me?! I am so SICK OF THIS BRAIN FOG!!” Yes, Friendly Reader, I was right in the middle of a full-blown, early morning conniption fit. And twelve hours later, I still can’t remember how many Splendas go into my coffee every morning. It’ll probably come back to me tomorrow. And if it doesn’t, We may be at DEFCON 1.

One of my biggest things is to start walking in one direction, then realize I should be going the other direction. So I turn. Then, immediately realize that, no, I need to go the other direction. So, I turn again, to face the original direction. And at once am hit with the knowledge that, no, I have to go the other direction. So, I turn one more time, and keep going. This can happen a number of times in a row, or it can happen just the once. I’m afraid I’ll one day get stuck in a loop, and I’ll be spinning around until The Husband comes home from work. Speaking of vertigo. Blech. This morning, I did a mini version of this. In the shower. Yes. The shower. I don’t even recall how it got started, but I think I was reaching for the shampoo, and turned the wrong way, and then instead of turning back the right way, I turned toward the curtain, and so I turned back around…it was all very confusing, and I eventually just stuck a hand out to grab some wall and right myself. I’m glad I was the only one there. I’d have been committed for talking to myself.

You know, I have actually brought the issue of my potential senility up to Mother ReloVertigo. She told me the fun really gets going the older I get. And that she has always been the way I am now. I don’t think that makes me feel better.

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