Memory Disorder....

"Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, there is no other..." Isaiah 46:9 NIV

"Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!"  Isaish 43:18 NIV

"a banana, a pencil, and a horse",  he says, as the neurologist proceeds with another "Mini Mental Status Exam" that tracks the decline of Karen's memory; the ability to remember three items for five minutes is an integral part of the MMSE. I am usually in the room watching this process, the same test given every three months for now more than ten years, and of the past  four I have yet to see Karen remember any one of the items, much less all three; it no longer surprises nor saddens me; it is what it is. 

I picked her up from Sarah's Place a few days ago. "What are we going to do?", she asks. "Get something to eat, pick up the mail, and get some shopping done", I reply as we launch for lunch. Thanks to traffic it takes fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant, and the noonday crowd means a bit of a wait to get our food. Our interim conversation is limited to the usual items: "How is your job going", "Thank you for picking me up; I enjoy when we can be together", and "I am so blessed that God answers my prayers for friends and family", each phrase said with sincere emotion, each with exactly the same phraseology and cadence, each one repeated usually within a 1-2 minute period of time. We finish our meal (shrimp for Karen, of course) and walk back to the car; as we get in, she says, "So now we get the mail and then go shopping, right?"  Right. (unable to catch my breath for a moment) "Will this last?" I wonder to myself; "Is she getting better?", but within minutes the old rituals resume. 

Karen never has used the word dementia. Never, nor Alzheimer's Disease, nor any of the specific labels that have at one time or another been proffered as explanations for her condition. When she has mentioned that she does have something wrong, which is very rare, she would say, "I have a memory disorder". Perhaps she has been prescient; that term is now used by clinics where they specialize in such things, as they recognize that there are a host of seemingly different neurological conditions that can present as, or evolve into, a primary problem with loss of memory. Alzheimer's, vascular, primary aphasic, frontotemporal, Lewy body: this is an incomplete list of the scientific names given to various conditions that while following different routes, all lead to the same terminal destination called dementia. 

But for those few moments while I waited to see if there was more than this brief glimpse of the ghost of Karen past, I began to realize the term "memory disorder" entails much more...

She can't remember...

...how to use a fork and knife; almost all food is now preferentially eaten with a spoon. The result is that I choose food that can be eaten with fingers (still one more reason to love shrimp), or learn to ignore the stare of the waitress as I cut her food up for her or get all the fixin's in her baked potato while trying to explain the difference between a skin and a shell (edible versus inedible). And every, yes every, trip to get seafood requires a new introduction to the definition of a hushpuppy and how to eat one. 

...any of the times that we have seen God work miraculously around and sometimes through us in different parts of the world, nor the literally hundreds of missionaries that we have been blessed to know. 

...how to sense the unspoken pain or sadness that others may be feeling; the neurologist may have names for specific locations of the brain damaged by dementia (amygdala and hippocampus). I would add one more: the empathy center, in Karen now all but non-existent, a tragic loss for someone who used to provide care and counsel. And of course the deepest sadness is that she cannot recognize the loss. 

...the list goes on and on, but as I consider how a "memory disorder" might best be characterized, I find that...

I can't forget....

...the times and places and faces that are forever etched in my memory banks, inextricably connected to Karen's presence and person. I can't recall eating George's food (a brother-by-another-mother who has sustained me/us in more ways than one; those of you who know us well know him, too) without sensing Karen at my side. Even now living alone, I cannot fold a towel to hang up without doing it the way that I learned from Karen, to please her (come on, I'm a guy. It's a towel.).

...that for most of our life together my automatic desire to touch would be pleasurably received, that a simple pat on the knee would not cause the angry sudden withdrawal that is now the norm, as the illness has erected a sense of personal space that cannot be violated.

...the first time I met her, a nurse at a psychiatric hospital in Texas. We had no personal relationship then, not for a while. But her humor, her ability to manage staff, patients, and egoistic doctors, her confidence and independence: these, I could not ignore then nor can I forget now; it makes me angry, often at her, that she can't be that person any more; her inability to recall who she has been sometimes makes it seem as if she has chosen to be who she is now. And I react, automatically, because I cannot forget her, the her of then. But even as I may become curt with her, the her of now will forget my behavior, in seconds. 

Karen is fine, of course, almost all the time. In not remembering what she has forgotten, she cannot feel much loss, nor is she encumbered by false hope generated by the momentary ability to remember a banana, a pencil, or a trip to the post office; within five minutes of that brief episode of retention, all was once again lost. I remember it still, but for her it is as if it never happened. 

So, which one of us has the memory disorder? For this brief section of the journey, I would have to say that having memory may be more problematic than losing it. For all the pain that may be caused by forgetting, as much or more may accompany remembering. Perhaps this is why God would juxtapose two seemingly opposing brief passages in Isaiah (see the heading, above). In both cases, the point is the same: it isn't about what I remember or forget, it isn't about me, it's about Him: He is God. God of the past, God of the now, God of that to come. I must not let the past blur my awareness of what He has done ; He is in the process of doing a new thing, and it will be a good thing. He is a good God. All the time.

Awash in memories at the moment, I would welcome your thoughts...

Barney