Who Says How Far Away The Future Is?

People with mild cognitive impairment
are three times more likely to develop
Alzheimer’s or other dementias. . . .. In fact
about half the people with MCI will progress
to Alzheimer’s Disease within five years.
 Mayo Clinic

7-13-2007-24Does my brain feel any cloudier this week?  I did have trouble finding my car yesterday after the symphony—it was on Broom Street, if only I’d memorized the street name, we wouldn’t have had to walk so far. You’d think of all words, broom would be a keeper.

 What do I do to prepare for this possible journey? Straighten my closet for one thing, call the death company and make arrangements . . . for that matter, I should make arrangements for us all—none of us works well in the crisis of bereavement. It really isn’t premature to prepare, after all I’m “up there” in years and any number of diseases can send me over the edge.

 So, get out the shovel and start pitching all the detritus. I don’t imagine I’ll wear the clothes that are three sizes smaller than I am anyway—those are the ones with dust on the shoulders! Maybe crematories keep a little black dress handy. Who am I kidding, no one will be standing over me saying, “doesn’t she look just like herself?” (I still love the Bill Cosby routine from the 60s about death.)

 Before the deed, will I be one of those old quiet ladies, that just dances around the room with a secret smile? Will Fred come to visit and bring some book I like and I will miraculously become aware of him for minutes and then drift away again. Will they have to feed and change me?

I hope the heart or brain interferes with that stage. The article said that even with moderate impairment, the individual will still be able to dress but may have trouble choosing what to coordinate. Does that mean, I’ll come out in my best dress with my underwear on my head, bra like ear-muffs and panties a hairnet. My friends who know I love to laugh will remind me of what’s funny and we’ll laugh like the old days.

I remember going to movies about frail, dotty old women, clucking around robbing banks and having wonderful sex with some dried stick of a man, who still thinks he’s irresistible–who knows if I’m waltzing around to The Magic Touch by the Platters just what I’ll do.

 I may sit in my chair until the end writing sillier and sillier poems that end see jane run after dick; see dick stop and smile at jane; see spot cover his eyes and run from the room or some other scenario until I no longer see dick at all.

Published in: Uncategorized on October 17, 2009 at 9:03 pm  Leave a Comment  

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