Peter has trouble expressing himself more and more frequently. The other evening he was trying to explain something, but his words were jumbled. I leaned closer hoping I could catch a few words and make sense of them. Instead, he smacked himself on the head and said, “My thoughts just won’t stay in one place long enough for me to remember what I’m trying to say.”
We both laughed, but that in itself was quite a mouthful for him these days.
APHASIA (uh–fey-zhuh) noun, Pathology.
The loss of a previously held ability to speak or understand
spoken or written language, due to disease or injury of the brain.
It’s so difficult for those of us whose thoughts do stay in one place to imagine what it would be like to have some form of dementia. Peter falls back on his sense of humor to get by, and I borrow on that a lot. At times, though, it’s exhausting, probably as much for him as it is for me.
Later Peter asked, “Did you know me before my mind got like this,” he waggled his hands above his head, “before my bike accident?”
“Of course I did, silly,” I answered. “That was in 1980. We met in 1974. Besides, your mind didn’t get ‘like this’ until a few years ago. ‘”
“How do you remember all that?”
“‘Elephant brain’,” I joked. “Important stuff. How could I forget?”
“I did,” he said sadly.
Header photo: web grab