Carol (her alias) and I met at the park, not my neighborhood park, but the one to the east of me. She drove up behind me. She looked exactly like her picture: a pretty young woman, corn-rowed hair wrapped stylishly in a colorful head wrap. I checked out her car interior and noticed the car seat. That’s right she said she was a single mother. And then, I handed her the most precious item I own. I followed her in my car as she drove the two blocks to her shop, so new to her that there wasn’t even signage outside. But just as she said, it was right next to the local fire station. Today, a handful of firemen stood outside, next to the fire truck. I watched as Carol wrapped my property in her arms and swiftly walked into the furthest door to the left of the green building. Carol closed the door and inside with her was my most special possession, my pup, Fiona.

Carol, a dog groomer, reached out to me a few days before after I had reached out to her several weeks before. Fiona was way overdue for a grooming. In fact, when the stay-at-home order went into place and all non-essential businesses were ordered to close down, 303 Pet Salon, our long-time groomer, shut down immediately. I texted Nichole, our groomer, and asked her to come to my house, noting she could groom Fiona in the back yard. “I’ll wash her inside and hand her off to you, “  I said. No go.

It’s not that I care about having a white poofy pup. It’s just that Fiona mattes. All over. And as much as I brush, she still mattes. And then Fiona starts gnawing at the spots that she is matting. And that’s what was happening. Now, I don’t encourage people to disobey the rules, but heck, Hobby Lobby was staying open, considering itself essential, so why not my dog groomer? Couldn’t they stretch it?

Besides the matting, I was worried about the hair growing between her nails, her waxy, ears, her nails scratching my paper-thin skinned-legs, and the need to express her anal glands, as evidenced by her daily butt walk. I called around. Mobile units were shutting down. I thought I was set with Rover.com but they cancelled. I found some names on nextdoorneighbor.com (including Carol’s), called and pleaded my case, but was turned down. I called Fiona’s vet. No grooming services. I called Alameda East hospital. Yes, they would trim nails but it would be considered an emergency visit and cost $120. Oh. My. Goodness.

So, I gave Fiona a Trazadone (her prescription, not mine), and trimmed….the hair above her paws, the hair behind her legs where she mattes so much. When I realized I almost cut her bone I was so horrified I gave my drowsy dog an extra string cheese treat and vowed not to put scissors near her body again. And I sent Nichole a text.

And then Carol called back. They are extending the stay-at-home order until April 30, she said. She had been emailing and calling both the mayor’s office and the Governor’s office arguing that dog grooming is essential, with no success. She agreed to groom Fiona. But under her conditions. I agreed. I was a little nervous handing over my sweetie, but my gut told me Carol was a caring groomer who understood dogs…and their owners. And she’s won me over as a new customer.

On our walk last night and then this morning, people noticed. “Where did you get Fiona groomed?” they asked. My lips are sealed.

I talked to my PVH bestie Laurie the other night.  Laurie and I met in April 2019 when we both spent four weeks together at Parker Valley Hope. I like to call PVH an all-inclusive resort, but actually it’s an in-patient rehab facility. It didn’t take long for us to connect, and soon we deemed each other “besties.” The story of what she conquered and has continued to overcome will be shared at a later date. Let’s just say she’s friggin’ amazing.

For the past two-and-a-half years Laurie has been an online shopping ambassador for King Soopers in Fort Collins. I’m not sure if “ambassador” is her actual title, but it’s the one I think she deserves. Anyway, when people order online, she’s the one who runs around the store, scanner in hand, gathering the products and then bringing them to out to their cars. I’ve been worried about since the coronavirus outbreak. Some of our chat:

Mary: Hey bestie

Laurie: Hey bestie

Mary: You know it’s the one year anniversary of being besties!

Laurie: Yea, we’re supposed to go back to PVH for a ceremony and get our cups! (We decorated cups in the final days at PVH, and then if you are sober a year later, you are supposed to return to retrieve your cup at a ceremony!)

Mary: Yea…I wonder what PVH is doing about all that. I’ll call and see if we can do a ceremony for our Facebook group when this is all over.

So, tell me, how’s it going. Are you okay? How have online orders increased.

Laurie: I’m hanging in there. It’s crazy. We’ve gone from, on the busiest of days, 52 orders, to 110 orders per day on average now. We can’t keep up.

They want us to work extra hours, extra days, which I’m doing. But it’s totally exhausting and you know that’s not good for me so I have to start saying “no.” And I am not taking my scheduled breaks, lunch etc. They tell us, “You need to take your breaks, your lunch. That is expected.” But we never do because we are so overwhelmed. Plus, they want us to come in earlier. Right now I start at either 5AM or 6 AM and now they want us to come in at 3AM and 4AM.

Mary: It kinda’ seems like you are getting conflicting messages from management. Have they hired extra help.

Laurie: Yes, they hired six people for our department. The problem is we don’t have any additional remote scanners so they really can’t do much of anything. Plus we’re too busy to even train them. They can’t even take the deliveries to the car because the groceries have to be scanned at the car, you know, give the customer a real receipt after coupons.

Mary: I can’t believe people are worrying about coupons right now. But that’s me. So, anything surprising that is on shoppers list these days?

Laurie: Yeast.

Mary: YEAST?

Laurie: Yea, I guess everyone is baking. I get asked for it 10 times a day. Then flour, sugar and stuff. Milk, dairy products, potato chips. Our whole chip aisle, there is nothing there. Thomas’ bagels and English muffins. The Thomas bread guy comes every day….we chat.

Mary: I’m glad you have friends.

Laurie: Shut up. (Not exactly what she said). Lots of stuff is NEVER available to online shoppers….hamburger meat, ground turkey. Some of the fresh veggies. They put that stuff out and it’s gone in a half-hour.  And Kroger brand stuff like frozen chicken wings. If we have the brand name we’ll give that to them at the cheaper price.

Mary: What about cleaning stuff.

Laurie: That’s a joke. Any kind of Lysol spray, rubbing alcohol and peroxide, never. Toilet paper. Nothing. Out of stock.

Mary: Still toilet paper? I’d think everyone would be stocked up for the year by now.

What protective gear do they provide you?

Laurie: Nada, nothing. They do not provide masks or gloves. I had some at home that I brought in to share with my coworkers, but those are gone now. One thing, there is nothing on the shelves to give us, so they can’t do that. They need to provide protective gear but I don’t know where they would get it. Right now it’s a danger to us, it’s a danger to our customers.

Mary: No kidding. (Not exactly what I said)

Hey, promise me you will take care of yourself, number one. You can’t let this job wear you down.

Laurie: Yes, bestie.

Mary: I’m worried about you….and I love you.

Laurie: I love you too….Hey, are you cooking now?

Mary: Yes

Laurie: Are you making broccoli for Fiona? (Laurie, who often calls six-ish when I’m making dinner for me an Fiona, is amused that we sometimes share a bag of frozen broccoli.)

Mary: No, not now. If you have to know, I’m frying a portabella mushroom. So there.

Note: After our call, I read that Kroger is providing frontline workers a “Hero Bonus” of a $2 premium above their standard base pay for hours worked March 29 through April 18. “Our associates have displayed the true actions of a hero, working tirelessly on the frontlines to ensure everyone has access to affordable, fresh food and essentials during this national emergency,” said Kroger’s CEO.

Great….I think Laurie and her colleagues would also like getting masks and gloves, Mr. CEO.

I live in a state (Colorado) that still allows plastic bags at the grocery store. Which is a good thing, because I use them. I don’t always get the plastic bags….I have a trunk full of reusable grocery bags that are my “regulars,” but when I need some plastic bags, I get some plastic bags.

I once saw a neatly organized “box of bags” and I’ve wondered for about a year how it was done. Well, I did the research (meaning, I googled it and endured an annoying long You Tube how-to video), and now I present my findings in photo form….no annoying video. (And hey, is it just me who has no patience for those videos?)

Before the coronavirus limited our daily lives so drastically, I snuck in a trip to San Diego. It was my first solo travel in a year. I had several catalysts to go: get a little beach time; visit my cousins Gary and Kathy; and see Lauren, Tasha, and their pup, Coco.

I met Lauren and Tasha only recently, in early November of last year. I was walking Fiona in Mayfair Park and came upon Lauren and her Fiona look-alike, Coco. Lauren said that she and her roommate, Tasha, just moved into a townhouse across from the park. They are travelling nurses working in the ICU at one of our two Trauma 1 hospitals, University Hospital. The shifts are 12-hours long and she has been paying Wag dog walking service $30 per day to come take Coco for two walks per day. “Really?” I said? “How ’bout I do it for free!” Lauren took my number and we made plans to meet with the dogs that Saturday in the park to check out their compatibility. On Friday I received a text from Lauren. Since we talked, she had torn her ACL (and later would find out, her meniscus) while skiing on early winter snow.

OK. So much for a trial period. I started picking up Coco for our twice-daily walks. When Lauren was well enough to work a hospital desk job, Coco started hanging with me and Fiona at my house for the day. Over Thanksgiving, Lauren had surgery, and eventually continued back at work. Meanwhile, I got a lot of attention walking the two cute pups…and everyone at the Rosemark, the assisted living home Fiona and I regularly visit, loved having the duo to pet and snuggle with. When Lauren and her roommate went away for some weekends, I happily welcomed Coco to my home, and my bed (much to Fiona’s chagrin).

All of this was met with an abundance of appreciation and an embarrassment of praise. In one card, Lauren wrote, “You truly have been an angel. I wouldn’t have made it through my surgery if I had not known Coco was safe with you. Someday I hope to pay it forward to another nurse.”: Tasha wrote, “We couldn’t have done this crazy adventure without you.” Over shared meals, I called them my “new nieces.”

Lauren’s father, John, is a minister at the University United Methodist Church in Austin. John picked up on something biblical between Lauren and me. He believed our multi-generational friendship was similar to two women in that week’s scriptures, Mary and her elderly cousin, Elizabeth. My friendship with Lauren was included in his sermon in the following post.

It would be easy for a relationship like this, so fresh and so time-limited, to fizzle. They do all the time. But I didn’t want this to happen. After they packed up and moved on to San Diego Lauren and Tasha called me, together and on their own, at least once a week. And before too long, I was making plans to come visit….Thus, my trip to San Diego. I sure am glad I squeezed it in while I could. And boy, I sure do love Coco…and my sweet new nieces!!!

Sermon by John Elford, Pastor, University United Methodist Church,

Austin, TX

December 2019

I have a confession to make. In my spare time, I read sermons. Just for fun. If there isn’t a therapy group for this there ought to be. 

​

So I read sermons and I’ve noticed a pattern. So many sermons begin with this formula – I’m not sure what I was thinking when I chose this text. And then the sermon moans and groans along about how difficult and weird and impossible the whole exercise is. 

​I have sworn on my ordination Bible that I would not usethis formula. 

​But then along came Luke 1:39-45, the story of Mary meeting Elizabeth. 

​

I’m not sure what I was thinking when I chose this text. And while I do try to blame many things that go badly on staff – not really – I have only myself to blame. I chose to do a series on Mary, I picked these verses in Luke and I divided it up into three sections, one for each preaching Sunday. 

​Do you need reasons why this is all a bad idea? For one, the story is all of seven verses. It barely even qualifies as a story. And it’s basically about a baby shower – Mary and Elizabeth are both with child and, seriously, what do I know about baby showers or being with child. That knowledge could fill a thimble. 

​

As I sat with how out of touch I felt with this story, it occurred to me that the message was now right in front of me. That I have somehow imagined myself separate from these women, these ancient women in impossibly difficult situations, that I have nothing to do with them and they have nothing to do with me and nothing to say to me which is pretty much complete nonsense. If this story says anything at all it’s this – that we are powerfully connected with each other, as unimaginably different as we might appear to be from each other. This story says that we are not alone. This story says that we belong to each other.

​I’ve called their meeting a baby shower, and I suppose in a way it was – the gifts were joy and laughter and sharing this time together and watching John perform the very first liturgical dance in his mother’s womb. It’s really more than that – it’s an example of the “deep sisterhood” that sustains women on the margins in times of great uncertainty. 

​

Remember who we’re talking about here. Mary and Elizabeth, whose pregnancies are unexpected and dangerous in their own ways. Mary was very young, and very unmarried; Elizabeth was very old, and had endured the shame of not bearing children. It’s as if all of the unlikeliness and impossibility of their lives in this moment draws them together like magnets. It’s for good reason that the story recalls that Mary left to see her cousin Elizabeth “with haste.” 

​

Sadly, these stories of women fleeing continue into our time, stories of women who are victimized and terrorized simply because they are women. Rachel Cohen wrote recently in The Washington Post about the making of story cloths, where women have sewn what they cannot speak into narrative textiles. One pictures a man shooting into a tree and it’s called “They treat us like birds.” In another one, the maker of the cloth was asked about the colors she chose for the figures in her cloth and she said: “I made myself look invisible because no one really sees me.” The AIDS Memorial Quilt, that some of you have seen, is just like these story cloths. Cohen says: “The experience of producing an external representation of one’s internal pain and making something beautiful of a horrific experience can be transformative.” 

​

The story we have is sparse, but I wonder if the meeting of Mary and Elizabeth was like that, too, a way to support one another over matters where speech is forbidden, a way to experience their lives without shame or guilt or blame. These two women get it, that they are here for each other, that they have been given to one another just for this time. I wonder if we would even have the Magnificat, the mighty song Mary sang of a God who brings down the mighty and raises the lowly and fills the hungry with good things – I wonder if Mary would have sung at all without Elizabeth’s blessing. 

​I’ve mentioned to some of you that our daughter Lauren is a travel nurse, working in an ICU in Denver, CO. She’s been telling us lately about an unusual friendship. She met a cute neighbor lady at the dog park one afternoon.

​

Their dogs together looked like sisters and took an immediate liking to each other. And these two women, separated by generations and by customs that say “don’t talk to strangersand for sure, don’t trust them,” took an immediate liking to each other. The next time they met, she asked Lauren “Who looks after your dog during the day?” She offered to pet sit Coconut, so that her dog could have a playmate. When Lauren had her recent skiing accident, tearing up her knee, her new friend stepped up, helping with walks and drives to the store. She’s been a godsend to Lauren. 

​By the way, her name is Mary. And Lauren’s middle name is Elizabeth. A parable of the season.

​Can you see how this ancient story might also be about us? That we are not alone. That we belong to God and we belong to each other. That we have been given this church not only to do justice and sing and pray and feed the hungry, but that right here, we are given to each other. That we are here for each other. I know we feel alone at times, but this season reminds us that we are not really alone. Ever. In your grief, in your sadness, in your loneliness, in your wild 10 days till Christmas near insanity – you are not alone. 

​

When new babies are born, you are here for each other with home-cooked meals for the harried, sleep deprived family. 

​When folks come on Saturday morning, you are here for each other early, creating a lovely brunch and welcoming withopen arms our friends who slept under the stars. 

​When a family falls to illness or death, you are here for each other, with deep love and arm loads of covered dishes, the third sacrament. 

​

When strangers come in the door, you are here for each other, offering signs of peace, gentle invitations, and translating narthex, introit and UMW into plain English. 

​And they will call his name Emmanuel, which means God with us. God with us to draw us together. God with us who made us for each other. 

​

Since I opened with a cliché, I feel compelled to round things out by closing with one, in this case a poem by Wendell Berry. If you recognize it, it’s one of the anchor pieces at the end of every Conspirare Christmas concert. 

​We clasp the hands of those that go before us,

​And the hands of those who come after us.

​We enter the little circle of each other’s arms

​And the larger circle of lovers,

​Whose hands are joined in a dance,

​And the larger circle of all creatures,

​Passing in and out of life

​Who move also in a dance

​To a music so subtle and vast that no ear hears it

​Except in fragments.

​

​I can’t think of better good news to hear than this.

Someone I love has the coronavirus. Thankfully, it’s not the most horrible of cases (she’s at home, for instance), but it sure seems pretty lousy. She said I could write about it on the blog as long as I a) did not identify her and b) did not discuss how she contracted the virus.

Mary: First of all, how are you?

Friend: Pretty much the same. Wait, you have a blog?

Mary: Yea, I’m just getting it going. So when did your symptoms start, and what were they?

Friend: Thursday, March 19. I had a headache and a low level temperature, like 98.9. And a mild cough. They continued throughout the weekend and frankly, we didn’t even know if it was the coronavirus. But four days in I lost my sense of taste and smell, just when that New York Times article came out. Then I was pretty certain.

Mary: What did you do?

Friend: I have some other health conditions I was concerned about, so I called the ER and told them about everything and they whisked me in. They were so professional and they did a pretty thorough workup of all my vitals and thankfully everything was fine. I’m glad I went in because they calmed me down. They said I do have the symptoms of the coronavirus and to stay at home and rest. And to take Tylenol.

Mary: Did they test you?

Friend: No, they said they only test the most serious cases.

Mary: So is your case counted as a confirmed coronavirus case?

Friend: I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean they took all my information but without the test I don’t think they can count it as a confirmed coronavirus case.

Mary: Has anything changed since you first got it?

Friend: I now don’t’ have any appetite. The only thing that tastes good are smoothies. And I’m drinking lots of really hot tea to keep the lungs open.

Mary: How are you passing the time?

Friend: I’m reading some. In the best of times I’m a news junkie, so that hasn’t changed, unfortunately. I’ve been binging the Hilary documentary on Hulu. And I’m watching Homeland. But really, who cares about the Taliban with all this going on. Oh, and Seinfeld.

Mary: How does it feel to have the virus that the whole world is focused on?

Friend: It’s scary. There’s just so much uncertainty. I’ve read of some cases that crash in the second week rather than get better. But really, you just go day by day and focus on getting better.

Mary: I assume you are sequestered from the rest of your family.

Friend: Yes, and they are sequestered as well. I’ll tell you, this virus has given me a unique feeling –a bad unique feeling–I have never had before. The bottom line is I don’t wish this on anyone.

Mary: Be well, my friend.

Roger was on the stepstool, hovering over my bed, installing a new overhead lamp. “Why did you buy this one?” he grumbled. “Look, you will have to unscrew these four screws just to change a light bulb.” I looked at Roger and said, “Roger, I’m not going to be changing those light bulbs. I’m calling you, and you    are going to change the light bulbs.”

Roger and I had spent most of our days for the past month together. He is a true man-of-all-trades—electrician, plumber, handyman, etc. My friend Toni referred him to me when I said I wanted to remodel my bathroom. Day two into the project I called Toni and said, “What the heck, Toni? I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or talking to himself. I’ve already gone to Ace to buy and return parts twice. He second-guesses everything I want to do, even though it’s my bathroom.” Toni just laughed. “I know you could handle him,” she said, “You’ll see. “He’s worth it.”

Roger, like most handyman working on their own that I’ve known, is quirky, to see the least. Many days we would meet at Home Depot to purchase needed parts. He, the handyman, however, would arrive without his glasses, a measuring tape, flashlight or a small knife to open boxes to examine products. As I rolled my eyes, I lent him my own glasses and he ran around the store finding “loaners” for us to use. When choosing the shower head, Roger thought I was being too extravagant with my purchase. “But I want one with a separate showerhead so I can wash Fiona, and I want a big one for my own shower,” I explained. “And, by the way, IT’S MY BATHROOM!” In another instance, Roger was insisting I get a new vanity. I liked my old one, however, because it was tall. Finally, we agreed to get a new one when he promised to add “legs” to it, adding a good four inches.

Right off the back, there was a familiarity between us because we both came from large families and were one of eight kids. And we shared a sadness in that we both had lost siblings…me losing Jimmy, he losing two siblings. Over the lunches I made him (and that he raved about my cooking, ha!) we talked about this and the other people important in our lives. I also shared with him how I had gone to detox and rehab for prescription opiod use, and he told me he had his own struggles. We got close in a short time. In fact, he would tell Toni that we had very similar lives.

Plus, Fiona loved him. He brought her treats, gave her belly rubs and it didn’t take long for her to give Roger her infamous “wiggle butt” only reserved for her most favorite (and mostly male) friends.

When the bathroom was finished Roger was scheduled to start a new job in Boulder but the weather turned cold. GREAT! I did an inventory around my house and in two days he changed out every doorknob (many that never had worked), painted my front door and a myriad of other tasks. For this he charged me $350. I wrote him a check for $600. We argued about this, he saying it was too much. We agreed that when I returned from Steamboat the next week he’d come and and paint the front shutters to match the door. While in Steamboat I got texts from Roger. “Are you home yet? I can come tomorrow to paint the shutters.” When I did get home I texted Roger but I didn’t hear back from him. That’s because he collapsed the night before and died. I haven’t heard yet of a cause.  But everyone is heartbroken, especially Toni and including me. And now, his family had to postpone his memorial, scheduled for last weekend.

Every night as I get in my new bathtub I get teary thinking about Roger. He was my new-found handyman. But in a short amount of time, he also became my friend. And now I’ll have to change my own damn lightbulbs.

Hi and welcome to Mary’s Musings…If you are reading this you know me well. And you most likely know the medical challenges I’ve been facing. In a nutshell: Since 2012 I’ve had trigeminal neuralgia. This eventually caused me to stop working and go on full disability. More recently, in 2019, I was diagnosed with a major cognitive disorder that impacts my memory, executive function and ability to learn. If you talk to me you notice I struggle to come up with the right words…a huge frustration for a writer. However, I wanted to keep my writing muscles going, so my cognitive therapist and I agreed a blog would be a good idea….I’m not so sure how often I’ll post here, and it may not be perfect grammatically or have typos or whatever…but I hope it’s a good read. I’m going to write a bit about the past year and a big about what is going on now….and certainly anything that moves me and amuses me.

And you are invited to participate! Is there something that moves you and/or amuses you? I invite you to be a guest writer. Just send it to me at maryscott303@gmail.com….

Oh, and there might be a photo (or two or three) of Fiona. Thanks for joining me….Love, Mary

As you may know I have been living with Trigeminal Neuralgia since 2012. For the past several years my pain management doctors has prescribed a variety of medications, including opiates such as Vicodine and then Oxycontine.

Starting last fall of 2018 I just wasn’t doing well. I wasn’t getting the relief I needed. I talked to my doctor,  but I resisted going off Oxy because even though it wasn’t as effective as it was before, at least I knew it helped some. By Christmas 2018 and into 2019 my constant pain showed more, though really only a few people who saw me a lot could tell

On the night of March 22, I couldn’t sleep. I took meds and drank some wine. Then I got completely paranoid that I had taken too many oxy and that I had overdosed. It was 2 in the morning and I texted my then-next door neighbors (one of which, David, was a recent med school grad). When he finally came over at 5 A.M. he could tell I was out of it on something. He called and got a list of my meds from Tom. He figured out I had taken too many sleeping meds plus anxiety meds. At the same time, I was going through withdrawl because I hadn’t taken any Oxy for the past couple of days. As I was withdrawing (though I didn’t realize that’s what was happening). David told Tom that I needed to go to detox. Tom and David presented this to me by late morning. I agreed and set up a conference call with my family  (siblings and in-laws). It was very teary-eyed call. I had to go to the ER in order to get into a Detox facility.

Little did I know that the only bed available was in a trauma unit at a place called Denver Springs. So that was crazy (lots of stories) After a few days in the trauma unit they moved me to the regular unit. The only withdrawl symptoms I had from the oxy was one night I fell out of bed and was sick to my stomach and had to crawl to the bathroom, making a huge mess….that got the attention of the entire staff.

I wanted to go home after detox and just be in my own home with Fiona. But Melissa (I was her babysitter growing up and she’s a crisis counselor now in Denver….plus my dear friend) talked me into going to rehab. She said that I had had been taking opiods for 6 years so committing one month to its true withdrawal was important. She then reminded me that a week prior to my March “incident” I drove to her new house in the middle of the day with Fiona and then afterward had no recollection of it. So I had a complete blackout that involved driving. OK, rehab it was.

While there, they strongly suggested I quit drinking wine as well as the opiod withdrawal. OK…now more alcohol it was.

I was at Parker Valley Hope for about 4 weeks. No cell phones. I was one of the older guests. There was only one other person there for prescription opiod use. Most patients were there for alcohol, cocaine, heroin, and meth withdrawl. The patients ranged in age and “types” of people, but really a normal-looking group of people ….if you showed up at lunch you would think you were at Applebees. In the end, it was probably was one of the more rich experiences of my life (not to mention expensive, $20k). I met some amazing people and was exposed to situations that I could not believe. I learned what a powerful and horrible force addiction is….

During that time I sat through countless lectures about both alcohol and drug addiction and attended daily AA and NA meetings. The only thing….None of it resonated. However, I left drug and alcohol free and remain so today.

Meanwhile, about a week before my March “incident” I had an appointment with my neurologist, Dr. Chen. We talked about a lot of things but I told her that I wanted to address my antidepressant meds because they weren’t doing the trick. She was referred me to a neuropsychologist. I went to that appointment after going to rehab, I assumed to address the antidepressant meds issue. After Dr. Nguyen asked me a bunch of questions he said he as setting me up for a five hour test the following week. I asked, “What is this all about?” He said that my neurologist thinks, and he agrees, that I have memory decline and the test will further determine this.

All of a sudden, “Ding ding ding.” It was the first thing in seven weeks that made sense. For months I had been complaining about my memory issues….forgetting things, trouble with coming up with the right words, etc. etc.

So I took the test and it, along with follow up appointments with the neuropsychologist and my neurologist, revealed several things. First I have a major cognitive disorder. This impacts my memory, my executive functioning and my ability to learn. If you’re around me for a while you will notice I can’t come up with the right words/names and I often can’t remember a lot of things (like where I put my keys, a ticket, etc.)

Ends up all those months I was actually having memory problems taking my meds. The irony is that I was very careful and disciplined with my oxy medication, taking my prescribed 4-a-day meds at 10-1-4 and 7. Where I screwed up, however, was my other meds, including my other pain meds such as Lyrica. I was not using a dispenser and relying on my (faulty) memory if/when I took them. Once I was using a dispenser I realized how often I missed my needed meds like my Lyrica, Toprimate not to mention the antidepressant and blood pressure medication. Basically, everything was all messed up.

My motor skills are also impacted which right now presents in difficulties with balance, falling and I also run into things all the time.

My neurologist compared it to a car’s electrical system….one thing goes wrong (for me, trigeminal neuralgia), and then eventually, (for me, six years down the road) other neurological functions start going wrong as well….and so it goes.

The neuropsychologist said I am capable of independent living at this time though, this could change relatively soon.  In the meantime I have cognitive therapy…..And thus, the blog. I need to get my writing chops back so this seems like the best way. Since I’m lapping my time in detox/rehab by a year now I may revisit some of my experiences there (lots and lots of notes) and check in with some of my friends I met from there. And I’ll just write about what touches me and most importantly, what amuses me. Thanks for joining me.