Why Am I Here?

“Why am I here?”

 You would not believe how many times I say this these days.  No, I don’t mean that I’m getting all philosophical on you.  I’m talking I get somewhere and really don’t know why I’m there.  This happens almost every time I go to the garage.  My garage is where I keep glassware, canning supplies, and other kitchen related items that I don’t have room for in the house.  It’s also the home of our two big freezers.  So I go to the garage at least once a day.  And nearly every time, as soon as I step inside I say, usually out loud, “Why am I here?”  The garage sits about 20 feet from the house, which apparently makes for just long enough of a walk for me to acquire amnesia these days.  The problem is not that the required information doesn’t stick.  Oh, it’s in there, but good luck retrieving it!  Usually, within a minute or so of asking myself why I’m there, and after the application of much concentration, I’m able to remember why I came.  But not always.

 I try to warn people that I don’t remember things, but they don’t seem to get it.  They say things like, “I’m the same way!”  Ha, ha—no, you’re really not.  Thanks to tamoxifen, I just lose information in my brain somewhere.  It’s like my brain is the junk drawer of my body or something.  Sure, what I need is in there somewhere, but I’ve got to mentally dig through a bunch of twine, pencils, scotch tape, and a nut cracker to find it. 

 Two weeks ago I was driving into town to take Mini Me to piano lesson.  In a deviation from the normal routine, I was planning to run by Goodwill before hand and drop off some items.  So, we ride into town, pass the turn to piano, and head for the Goodwill.  Except as we approached the intersection where I’d need to turn, I suddenly did not know what I needed to do.  “Do I need to turn here?  I don’t remember where I’m going. Where am I going? Think, think, stupid brain, where am I going?”  Tick tock tick tock.  Finally, at the last second I remembered, “Oh yeah, Goodwill,” and made the left turn.  Then last weekend, I was getting ready to open a can of tuna.  I carried the tuna over to the drawer where the can opener is kept, but when I got there I just stared at the contents of the drawer.  “What am I looking for?  I need…something.  I must need it out of this drawer since I opened it.  What am I doing?  Uh…opening a can.  And what’s the tool I need for that?  Uh…”   Really, it should not take so much effort to remember that you need a can opener to open the can you are holding in your hand.

 Either of those things ever happened to you?  Probably not, unless you’re on tamoxifen.  They never used to happen to me, either.  Thankfully I have both a sense of humor and a supportive spouse.  A big reason why I‘m able to laugh at these incidents is because I cling to the assumption that once I’m off of tamoxifen, everything will go back to normal.  But it’s not all bad anyway, because like I said I have a supportive spouse.  Hubster has been great about recognizing that the tamoxifen has caused memory recall issues for me.  So, what’s he gonna do, get mad?  No, because I can’t help it, right?  I’m not forgetful because I’m an insensitive and self-absorbed lout who is too wrapped up in herself to remember to pick up Hubster’s toothpaste at Walmart.  Nope, it’s the drug’s fault–I’m handicapped!  And while I would never, ever exploit this, it does offer a certain advantage for those times when I am just an insensitive, self-absorbed lout who got too distracted by a new bottle of nail polish to remember the toothepaste.

10 Responses to “Why Am I Here?”

  1. Doctorate Upholder Says:

    I am also very bad at remembering things. It is quite unfortunate.

  2. Mary Creger Says:

    You don’t have to be on Tamoxifen to have memory recall issues. I have never taken that stuff but I did have plenty of The Red Devil, Taxol and Herceptin. I have been told by at least one doc that I can use the Chemo Brain excuse for as long as I want! Sure comes in handy when you “might” want to un-remember doing something a little goofy. “Whaaat—I did that? No—-not me!” I think that there is probably some pink ribbon tied too tightly around my memory brain cells.

    • The Moody Foodie Says:

      Mary, I did the Taxol thing, too. Because of my surgery and rads, I actually had about 4 months between the end of chemo and the beginning of Tamoxifen, and I noticed that the chemo brain was actually getting better. Then after about a month of Tamoxifen, I was starting to forget everything. I don’t think it’s getting any better, either. I’ve just learned to conpensate and roll with it.

  3. imdaddysgirl Says:

    Sadly, no excuse, but I could do any of those in a given day. I’m blaming stress. Yeah, that’s it!

  4. Nicole Says:

    Ugh. The bad memory thing is so my life. Just yesterday, I put my mp3 player in purse and seconds later had a panic attack because I couldn’t find it. It had literally taken seconds for me to forget I had put it away. Makes me feel like Tom Hanks in the the Mr. Short Term Memory SNL sketch.

    • The Moody Foodie Says:

      Nicole, when I read your comment, I was like, “Oh yeah! I totally had a similar thing happen to me the other day—I put my, uh…what was it? Something. There was something that I put someplace and then couldn’t find seconds later…hmmm…well, now, isn’t this ironic?”

  5. Debbie Says:

    Trust me, I’m the same way, but I don’t know what my excuse is! If it were me, I’d have to take the trek back into the house before my brain could remember why I went to the garage…you know, the point of inception, the place the thought originated! Oh, and then remember to say the answer all the way to garage again!!! Ughhh!

  6. The Mazster Says:

    I blame old age with myself (I’,m 37) and its getting worse lol.

  7. Dad Says:

    Now, I wanted to leave a comment! What was it? You are so funny? Nope, but you are. tick tock——-?? Darn, Wait a minute, I know, It is hereditary. Your Mom has the same thing.
    Love Dad

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