“When I lose my memory, will you and your brother refrain from mocking me?” I asked my daughter. “If we don’t mock you, how will you remember who we are?” I loved her answer. When I told her I couldn’t remember the name of the Grand Canyon, referring to it as the big hole in the West, she reassured me that I have always had issues and she sees nothing new. Memory loss runs in our family except for our very popular and mentally adept Mom. I’ll tell you her secret later.
Last month, my husband persuaded me to attend “Talk Cinema”* on Saturday morning alone because the surprise preview film was described as “powerful.” Imagine my dread when I found out the movie was Still Alice, a film based on a book about pre-senile dementia that had traumatized me for months. I had come unprepared with neither a Kleenex nor a hand to hold. (I just had to take a break to google Julianne Moore’s name). The audience discusses the movie afterwards, and to film critic Colin Colvert’s credit, he did not begin with an analysis but simply allowed time for us to react. What I was reminded of is that we are all touched by dementia.
I feel fortunate, though, because I’m too old to have pre-senile dementia, yet the question looms -- how does one cope with the possibility of future memory loss. My dad had told us as he realized he was having more difficulty with memory that his memories were his identity and once he lost them, he would lose himself. He was a person who had everything in order because he was always thinking ahead and taking care of us. And he had my mother, a person he fell in love with again and again. When he forgot that she was his wife, he called her his “angel.” Speaking of angels, my Aunt Gertie handled her memory loss by reaching out and hugging people saying “I don’t know who you are, but I know I love you.”
“Aging is not for wimps,” my mother and her friends assert. I am applying the same strategy to potential memory loss as I do to mortality – a mixture of preparation, rationalization, denial, and reverence for the present moment.
This blog is part of my preparation – writing my thoughts, expressing myself to an audience of perhaps one, perhaps 100. Certainly having legal matters prepared would be good. I suppose listing out my gazillion user names and passwords would also make sense. I haven’t yet done these things, though. Any day…
I just discovered a TV channel which replays all the shows of my childhood from age eight to about age fifteen, so that’s perfect. I have a nurturing husband who would be happy to watch TV with me. One of my best friends is not only a brilliant attorney but also British which, contributes to her “dial-a-rationalization” service when I feel stuck.
Denial is a lovely defense for me lest I freeze in fear of what may come but is not yet here. I’ve always thought that anxiety is similar to a smoke cloud that makes it difficult to be fully present. I have seen eight year olds who are so scared of their deaths that they can’t put the thought out of their minds. Yet, I remember how I’ve really never been prepared for things until they are just about to happen—driving, going to college, marrying, having a child; yet, somehow in retrospect, it seems like a natural passage.
In terms of being in the present, I noticed that at the ages of 80 up to 100, Mom and her friends all speak very lovingly to each other on a daily basis, perhaps knowing that it could be the last time. It wouldn’t hurt to consider each encounter as precious and feel grateful everyday, and I do. I admit I love the ability to connect to so many of my old friends and extended family on Facebook as well.
So what do mice have to do with it? Our house seems infiltrated with mice and at some point we could no longer deny the droppings. My very humane husband is engaged in a systematic torture and elimination campaign with my tacit vegetarian approval. I could live happily with mice if they would never leave a trail or show themselves in any way. I am currently busy pretending that I do not know about them, but that’s all I can think about. Preparation – that Harry’s job with consultation from the Guse Hardware. Denial – that’s my job. Rationalization? My lawyer friend is in Utah, so I haven’t dialed a rationalization yet. Gratitude – that’s my job too. I appreciate that I have a house that’s comfy for the little varmints and a husband willing to allow me to be in denial. At the point of publishing no mouse has been seen for a couple days, and now I’m missing the excitement of the little critters.**
I remember I promised to tell you my Mom’s secret to her sharp mind. Well in fact, I believe it is a lucky roll of the genetic dice and a life well lived. But I think Mom would say --- pilates. So pilates will be part of my preparation too. What’s your preparation, my dear readers?
*Talk Cinema provides an opportunity in many cities to preview independent films at a theater and then discuss them afterwards with a moderator. The moviegoer does not know the name of the movie until arriving at the theater. If you’re in the Twin Cities, come to the Edina Theater at 10am Saturday, February 21 and try it out.
**My sister suggests including the story of how I ran away from my apartment for a week after a mouse popped out of my toaster. Circa 1978.
