Which button do I push...

Yesterday, I got stuck in an elevator.  I started to panic, but could not think to use my cell phone.  On the call button, there was an X made with a marker.  I stared at it for a while, wondering if it would work were I to push it.

It took a while for me to notice that the elevator was not moving.  It was the silence that stood out.  No machinery hum.  It took even longer for me to realize that the reason the elevator was not moving was that I had not pushed any buttons.  It took even longer for me to figure out which button to push to get back to the parking lot of my GP's office building.  One disadvantage to being her last patient of the day is the dearth of elevator traffic that would rescue me from my ... forgetting.  SIGH.

I really am serious about wanting to put labels on the buttons of the church elevator:  "church" and "home."

I think I have been greatly discouraged about the doctor appointment I had yesterday to talk about alternatives for the erythromycin since last Monday, if not before.  As if I have been dreading it all week.  Poor Marie. I was a bear for eons after she arrived.  My GP said that she had found a solution, but it turned out that the extended release tablet is not covered by my insurance and, if I win the appeal of coverage, it is already listed as limited availability.  My pharmacist said that she suspected that it was like what I am taking, that it was the end of a production run.  The cash price would be $360 monthly ... completely out of reach for me.  So, I went from hopeful to even more discouraged in a spate of about 30 minutes.  SIGH.

Yesterday, whilst Marie and I were cooking (well, Marie was cooking and I was resting), she talked with me for a bit about my memory.  She said that she had noticed that after about a month, details of things that happened become fuzzy for me.  Then, after another short while, it is as if what has taken place has not happened for me.  She no longer tries to remind me of the things that have not happened for me because reminding does not help me remember.  It really only points out what I am forgetting.

I like that, as we have spent time together, once Marie realized that I did not remember most (if not all) the summer they spent here, she started watching me, in an off-hand sort of manner.  And gauging a timeframe for my memory.  I liked it because I know—standing on the inside looking out—that the blankness is expanding ... or happening more quickly.

I am of two minds about it:  terrified and humorous.

Of the latter, I've oft joked with Becky about it.  Such as ... if she tells me what a gift is that she is sending, it will still be a surprise to me by the time it arrives ... that she should have fun with it, to convince me I had done something I hadn't.  Marie said that she felt badly because I do not remember times when I was distressed at something she did and she does not remind me of that fact, but I replied that she should just focus on what I know, which is that we have wonderful times together.

Of course, I do remember that when Marie is cooking cleanliness is simply not possible!

I talked with my GP about Marie's observation, about the days when I leap up about of bed all worried about being late for work, about no knowing which house is real (the ones in my dreams or the one here in Fort Wayne), about not knowing what day it is, etc.  As a result, I am going to be going to her office every other month now.                  

If I am not working, does it matter that oft do not know where or when I am?

As to the former, I know what I am losing. I know how confused I am.  I know the number of times I've forgotten to feed Amos dinner of late.  And it terrifies me.

I know that even what I write about what I know about faith changes.  Only, to some degree, it is changing because I am no longer content to just pretend that I do know what I do not know.  What I never actually learned.  The thing is, well, I know Mary has been teaching me Gospel things and I would bet good money that I have forgotten things that she has taught me.  SIGH.

A while ago, Mary mentioned that we had been friend for two years now.  Yes, well, for me, we've been friends for about two months.  Maybe.

You know, one of the reasons I was an utter bear on Friday morning was that Amos would not tend to his major business.  Ever since the dreaded grass has reappeared, girding his loins enough to venture out upon it long enough to tend his business has been rather difficult for him.  The Rat Bastard has even, a few times, snuck upstairs to tend to business and then snuck back downstairs with me none the wiser. None the wiser because he did not ask to go outside.  So, I have had to be diligent about ensuring he tends to that major business twice a day, and, if he skips a session out of fear, that he does not come back inside the next timeframe unless his fear has been conquered long enough for business tending.

I had been arguing with Amos outside and was unable to sit on the back steps because they were wet.  He was so nervous with the sounds and such and I had to keep coaxing him back to his business.  Over and over and over again, all the whilst my blood pressure dropping and my heart rate skyrocketing because I was standing too much.  I finally, fearing I was about to faint, put Amos in timeout and raced to the couch to get my feet up and my head down.  In that moment, I desperately wanted Marie to realize what was wrong because I had been outside so long.  And so I snapped at her if she asked me if I was okay.  Of course I am not okay! I shouted in my head.  I disremember what I muttered at her.  But it was not ... pleasant.

Yet, seriously, how can she know that standing is so bad for me when, during our cooking Fridays, I stand more with her than I do the entire rest of the week combined?  How can she know if I spend all my time trying to be fairly normal?  How can she know unless I stop trying to do so much when she is here so that she will still want to be here?  SIGH.

I had told Marie on Thursday (I think) that I was tired and tired and tired.  And I dared to say that I just didn't want to do so many dishes when she came to cook with me.  Being so thoughtful, Marie came up with the idea of her cooking a freezer meal that we could also have as our lunch, along with the freezer meal she had planned to make.  I want her to be able to make good use of her time here, so I thought that was a splendid idea.  As a result, all I did yesterday was some mincing of garlic and the washing of a couple of things.  Mostly, I was a bear for a long while and then I was less of a bear and then I was gratefully sitting down to her meal and gulping down a glass (okay two glasses) of wine.  Yes, the Christmas present wine that I keep forgetting we have to drink.

Marie gave me grace and forgiveness during my bearish moments.  Marie gave me rest and company.  Marie gave me tasty food.  Marie gave me data about my brain.  And Marie gave me some raucous laughter and much normalcy.  To me, that's mercy.

Should I put little labels for myself on the church elevator and see if they stay??

I really do like that Firewood Man brought up that he could see that I don't remember far more than I used to be able to remember.  I really do like that it is okay with him.  I like how he twits me about this and that the whole time he is here, even if I do get a bit exasperated with him.  And I really, really, really like how he understand about the wonder of having luscious, long, GREEN grass waving at me.

I do not like what is happening with my brain.  And I am really, really, really scared that, were I to go back to the daily writhing and innards misery, my utter inability to handle such with even a modicum of maturity or grace or trust or faith will mean that the friends I have made in the past two years ... Firewood Man, Marie, Mary, and Celia ...  will not so much wish to be friends anymore.

May 12th.  May 12th, I will know if the automatic payment for my real estate property taxes is correct.  May 12th, I will know if all the steps I have taken—given that I have failed over and over and over again to find someone who will help me remember to pay my bills—to ensure that at least I have a house over my head and have limited my financial failures to the Internet bill are in place and are working.

Did you know that if you reset your iPhone all the alarms that you have set up daily and throughout the week to remind you to do all the things that need doing, especially taking medication, will be wiped out?  If you are me, you will not notice for a couple of days that your external reminders have ceased.  And you will forget your medication.  And you will forget the watering of the rosemary you've been trying to grow in your solarium since January until it is warm enough for it to survive outside.  And you will forget the feeding of your puppy dog.

Which button do I push?
Did I push it?
How do I know if I did?

At least the reminder I set up for tonight's NASCAR race was in the calendar, not the alarm feature.  No real crashes, but lots of tires (and then cars) on fire.  In my opinion, Goodyear missed the boat on its new tire design.  I mean, a tire that was at least 20 laps short of lasting a fuel window is a failure, but a tire that causes fires when it goes is definitely a disaster.  I would bet that four teams, at least, agree with me.  Of course, after the first fire, even I knew that any lap past 50 on the new tire was a lap playing Russian Roulette.

Yes, I watch NASCAR.  However, I would like to point out that it is probably the last remaining place/event/publicized function where the name of Jesus is used unabashedly in the invocation prayer without fear of retaliation, lawsuit, or job loss.  Is it wrong that it cracked me up when the pastor's ... enthusiasm ... got the crowd cheering before the final Amen??

Having read the book of Nahum, I know that praying for NASCAR races is not in there, but surely in Leviticus, right?  See, I still remember Nahum.  Chapter 1, God is awesome (mighty, powerful, can do anything and everything so fear Him).  Chapter 2, Ninevah is toast.  Chapter 3,  Ninevah is really, really, really toast.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!