In the morning, Kathe and I will be going to Eugene to meet with the anesthesiologist who'll be conducting me through the Ivory Gate. Tonight, I sit and wonder if the thingie in my brain is as innocuous as all of the doctors seem to think.
I've never had a really good memory, but now it seems bad enough to actually scare me.
Months ago, I told Kathe that it was my understanding that X was blue. A few weeks later, I said, "Of course, you remember when I said X was red, right?" We had a rather heated discussion on the subject. It was unpleasant, and not the sort of thing a person is likely to forget under normal circumstances.
And yet, the other day I said to Kathe, "I don't know why anyone would think X was blue. I certainly never said so." She had to remind me of our previous discussion, at which point it all came back to me -- but how could I not think of it whenever the subject of the color of X came up?
This is scary. Or am I just reading too much into an ordinary lapse because I'm already afraid of the surgery? I don't know.
//The Magic Eight-Ball
1 comment:
It's normal, John. You are under stress. Don't worry about such things. You're going to be fine.
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