Lately, my forgetfulness is causing me anxiety. For example, the other day I went to the Y for my yoga class and put my coat and pocketbook (aka a purse for those of you under the age of sixty) in a locker and put my lock on it. Halfway through my yoga class, I had this niggling thought that maybe I hadn’t really remembered to lock my locker. I didn’t want to leave the class in the middle of a downward facing dog, so I assured myself that yes, I had definitely locked my locker. When the class was over and I was heading back to the locker room, I reached into the pouch of my yoga bag to retrieve my key, and lo and behold, I withdrew my lock. My heart started racing. I knew my pocketbook had to be missing or at least been rifled through, and all my credit cards stolen. How could I have been so forgetful? I scolded myself. I raced to my locker in the slim hope that my coat was covering my pocketbook and nothing was missing. I got to my locker, and there was my lock. On the locker. Locked. I had used the lock I keep in my pocketbook when I’m not going to yoga and don’t have the lock I carry in my yoga bag. The lock in my hand was from my yoga bag.
A few months ago, as my husband and I were still sitting at the dinner table after we’d finished eating, my husband looked at the stove and said, “Did you mean to leave that burner on?” Rather than responding with what I really wanted to say (Of course, I meant to leave it on. I’ve always wanted to set the house on fire.), I sheepishly jumped up and turned the burner off. Now, however, every time I leave the house, I wonder if I’ve left the burner on. I’m thinking of serving only cold cereal every morning so I don’t have to worry about it anymore.
I read somewhere (can’t remember where) that certain cholesterol-lowering medications can cause memory loss. Since I’m on one of those medications, I’ve thought of asking my doctor about lowering the dosage. If I could only remember to ask him. Or maybe I did remember. Wonder what he said.