A thing I have to do every night now is this. I have to take a picture of my door, so that I can remember that it’s locked. I have dozens of pictures of this locked door on my phone in my deleted folder. I delete it every morning, so I don’t trick myself. I could easily trick myself. I’m sure there’s a simple compulsive behavior tied to the night I know I locked it, and still woke to find it unlocked the next day. But mostly I do it because I simply can’t remember anymore. I was checking 5-10 times a night before bed, which I’m sure annoyed my downstairs neighbors every time I walked up and down the creaky stairs. And still I’d get up, restless at 2 in the morning completely unsure if I remembered to lock it. I simply can’t remember. And that terrifies me.
My MRI is Monday the 12th. I found a new doctor, and I meet her the 15th. I couldn’t get in to see a neuropsychologist until November 18, but steps are being made.
In the meantime, I photograph my door. I chant to myself where my keys are. And lately I’ve been using a tens unit and icing my back and shoulders just to be able to stand each day. Nearly every day at lunch and right before bed I cry for a solid half hour.
Today I cried when I called Lutheran medical group to find a new doctor and the lady yelled at me when her phone made me sound muffled. It was fine when I heard the hold message. It was a mess by the time I got transferred to her rude ass. So I hung up and sobbed. I called back immediately and sat in my hallway holding and crying for 20 minutes before I gave up. My new doctor is associated with neither hospital network in town. This is good news to me.
I’m starting to feel like Guy Pearce in Memento. “I guess I’ve already told you about my condition.”