The terrible stage between recognition, diagnosis and total loss is fascinating and horrifying to me. What does it feel like to know that you are forgetting–that soon you will be lost?
What are we besides our words, our memories? I suppose we can also be our dispositions. But that can be lost as well.
I think of Pop-pop and that time that grandma Truitt thought he had his days of the week mixed up–”I know you think I am losing my mind, but It. Is. Tuesday.”
And it was Tuesday, but he was also losing his mind. The consciousness, the recognition, the inevitability…
I think of Agatha Christie and the decline of her later novels. Her 73rd novel, the one that marked the biggest shift–Elephants Can Remember. The title itself is haunting. Her words were vanishing. Statistical analysis has proven it, but she knew it too. She sensed it.
Listen to this radiolab podcast to learn more about that.
Last, I think of grandma Parker. A poignant, aching thought.
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