GOOD NEWS! I Passed My Dementia Test. Wait....

Doc says it happens to many early retirees who are alone with Doo Wop, Blues Stations from Berlin and Tegucigalpa, MSNBC, Inspector Lewis, Perry Mason re-runs, and a cat.
     You know, no idea where your keys and specs are for weeks on end, you bumble into the kitchen at 1 p.m. only to be cheerily-eerily surprised at the now-cold pot of Morning Joe Brewed At Some Time.
     You know, writing and no words come, none; you're using Babylon to find great synonyms for "hello", "honor", "hi", and "herpes" and turns of phrases such as "pick-me-up", only to close the site and instantly haven't a clue what you were looking for, what you found, or why you looked. A Walkabout through the living room, foyer, out the door (left?) to the rubbish chute...body memory kicks nothing in.
     You know, get a call from a guy with whom you're regularly in touch, a guy who was your former student and great friend for thirty years only to have No Idea Whose Voice This Is.
     You know, she asks, "You really liked the octopus hot-pot from Fu-Shing last evening?" And you say, "Fu-Shing? That Sichuan or Tiki Bar-American?"
     You know, your well-meaning son asks you for 'X dollars' to help him enter a motorcycle race and you say "Are Suzukis like my old U.S. Keds?" He says, "Yes, dad", and pats you on the head.
     You know, like that.
     So I called my doctor and arranged for her to give me a Thirty-Question Dementia Test. If I got fewer than 25 or maybe 24 or possibly 23 right, I'd be swaddled and bundled off to The Neurologist. And then carted off to Happy Acres.
     I showed up on time; hopeful. But I always show on time, even well before on time. It drives T and G crazy. This time I was alone so it drove no one crazy save the man in Waiting avidly watching Steve Harvey when I said, "Guy's a moron-clown." He grits her teeth. Maybe it was a woman. 
     Dr. P. called for me quickly and asked if I were ready. "To what? Get scientific confirmation that what my son has said for years is true?"
     "What country do you live in?'
     "What state do you live in?" State might be her, punning; I'm not sure.
     "What year is it?"
     "What is today's date?"
     "Mr. W., they get a little tougher now." [I grasp my spectacles and nearly twist off an ear-piece.]
     "Spell the word WORLD backwards." She says it like WHORL. I stab      "DLROW!"
     "Very good!", yanking me back to Miss Jane's Kindergarden.
     "Now, If I give you 100 light bulbs, take three away and then take away twenty more, how many do you have?"
     "Seventy-seven."   ["Excellent!"]
     "Repeat these numbers in reverse order: 8317." [I do.]
     She reads me a three-sentence story about Jack and Jill. Jill is a Chicago stock trader; Jack, her husband, appears to have no work, a Ward Cleaver acolyte. They have three grown children, two daughters and a son, all of whom subsist. I am asked what state they live in. I elicit a smile when I say "Illinois". I am asked about other aspects of this compelling telenovella.
     Finally, I get something wrong. Thank God. She'd asked me, earlier, later to repeat back PEN, TIE, HOUSE, CAR, and something else. It's now later. I have no idea Something Else.
     She shows me a triangle, a circle and a rectangle and asks me to mark the triangle with an "X". She asks me which figure is the biggest. I ask, "In terms of interior area?" She looks at me as if she's dealing with an idiot. I say, "The rectangle." She smiles.
     She says, "In one minute name all the kinds of animals you can. Go!" I recall saying "Marmalute! No...Malamute!" I say close to forty in sixty-seconds. She says average is 23 or 25. The Dominoes ain't got nothin' on me. "I'm Your Sixty-Minute Man. Second. Sixty-Second Man."
     She says I got 29 of 30 overall. She says the average is far less. I say, sure, but it's a somewhat self-selected group of The Demented.
     She says, "Well, no need to see The Neurologist. Lotsa people who retire early and work alone all day writing and reading...watching politics and listening to music as you do...MULTI-TASKING...experience this..."
     "I wouldn't say it quite that way."
     "Okay. What would you say?"
     She offers her hand, smiles. "Great to see you, Mr. W. Let's do a follow-up in...."

Oh. I see I shared this in 2012.

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Comment by Jonathan Wolfman on July 3, 2017 at 5:40am

... ... ...

A Safe, Fun Holiday to All!

Comment by Rob Wittmann on July 3, 2017 at 5:50am

u should get a second opinion...

Comment by Jonathan Wolfman on July 3, 2017 at 5:52am

about what?

Comment by alsoknownas on July 3, 2017 at 6:45am

My mom finally got bothered at the woman asking her what time showed on the clock face.

"Young lady, this is the third time I've had to help you. If it's too much for you to read a simple clock then you should consider a digital watch."

Comment by Boanerges on July 3, 2017 at 6:46am

Yeah, I find since I retired that I have to think about what day of the week it is. Only time I wonder about the date is when a holiday is in the offing because everything will be closed and I have to plan ahead for various supplies. Which I not infrequently forget to do. I'd rather not discuss blue box days. Maybe your doc is right. Naw -- I don't sit around thinking and stuff. Got no excuse at all.

Comment by Jonathan Wolfman on July 3, 2017 at 6:46am


Comment by Jonathan Wolfman on July 3, 2017 at 6:46am


Comment by koshersalaami on July 3, 2017 at 6:52am


Did you get the Illinois one wrong because the stock trader could commute from Gary?

Comment by JMac1949 Today on July 3, 2017 at 6:53am

When it comes to the muscles of the mind the rule of thumb is use it or lose it.  R&L

Comment by koshersalaami on July 3, 2017 at 6:57am

We're all losing it because we blog rather than think


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