Bea V. Larsen . . . .Commentaries |
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Bea V. Larsen is a Senior Mediator at the Center for Resolution of Disputes in |
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The Memory Lapse This entry was posted on 9/6/2008 10:15 AM and is filed under Personally Speaking. Is there anyone over the age of 50 who doesn’t experience a fleeting moment of worry when they can’t remember the name of a familiar person come upon in an unfamiliar place, or the title of the book they were reading just the night before? My former law partner and I meet weekly for lunch. As we walk about town, we are often approached by someone we both know we know. Our forward steps slow, hoping one of us will be able to come up with the first name, for then the other can almost always retrieve the last. Together we have an entire intact memory. We joke about our lapses, but a trace of unease lingers. Over the past week, my unease grew. On Thursday I spent time with a friend about six years my senior. We’d been neighbors many years ago. She and her husband now live in a retirement community, and since we meet only occasionally, after we get caught up with the lives of our children, our conversation usually reaches into the past. On this day it seemed as if every other person either of us recalled, or his or her spouse, had a dementia story to be told. I drove home under a cloud of dread. A few days later, I traveled with two companions into the Indiana countryside for a Labor Day visit with friends. Sitting around the dining table, we discussed the difficult decisions our host was facing about the care of her 88 year old mother whose memory was fading. I welcomed the intimate and meaningful talk, silently feeling reassured recalling the mental acuity of my mother at 89, until I brought to mind my father’s emerging confusion at the age of 82. Later that day I was asked about books I’d recently read. I couldn’t remember the title of the one at my bedside, although could describe it as a memoir. Again unease. Perspective returned the next day at the office, with competent performance, projects attended to, task lists reviewed and shortened. But did the dread linger somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness? Yes. As the day was ending, two colleagues walked into my office to talk about a planned new venture. We were all tired and happy to relax in each other’s company. As is my habit whenever I need to dispel worry or want reassurance, I tell my story. So, I described my lunch meeting with the old friend and also told them of my Labor Day memory lapse. My associates, considerably younger than me, smiled and nodded. Then one commiserated by saying he frequently reads a particularly interesting op-ed article in the N.Y.Times, and an hour or so later recommends it to his wife. She says: oh, really? What’s it about? He responds: well, just read me the first paragraph and then I’ll tell you. What a wonderful friend. At least a temporary reprieve. I walked home smiling. CommentsDisplay comments as (Linear | Threaded)
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