Focusing on the Present
There Is No Other Choice
I had an incident recently that caused me to wonder - how would I know if said incident was simply a case of absentmindedness that happens to everyone on occasion, or if it is the beginning of something far worse?
I misplaced my wallet and handkerchief. (Yes, I am a Boomer and still carry a handkerchief. I find that preferable to wiping my nose on my sleeve.) I stepped out the back door to begin my morning walk and realized that I did not have my wallet or handkerchief. So, I went back in to get them.
I usually put the contents of my pockets on the desk in the office at the end of the day, the theory being that if I put them in the same place all the time, I won’t have to go looking for them. I’ll know exactly where they are.
But, my handkerchief and wallet were not on the desk. Sometimes when changing clothes, I temporarily place my pocket contents on the dresser in our closet, so I checked there, expecting them to be waiting for me right where I left them. But, they weren’t.
I commenced a search of every room in the house, which did not take long, because our house is rather small. No sign of the wallet or handkerchief. I was becoming angry and frustrated.
The fact that the wallet and handkerchief were both missing was significant to me because, to my way of thinking, that meant I did not leave my wallet at the Dairy Queen. I did have my wallet out at the Dairy Queen, but I wouldn’t have had my wallet and handkerchief out at the same time while there.
Therefore, since they both were missing, to me that proved I took them out together, as I do when I empty my pockets in the evening. So, they had to be somewhere in the house. But where?
I must have had them in my hand when I got distracted and unthinkingly put them down somewhere. They just had to be in the house. Had to be.
So, I made the rounds again. From room to room to room. Still nothing. I began looking in places that I knew my wallet and handkerchief could not possibly be, because the places where they could be, had turned up empty.
I pulled the sofa out and turned it over, I looked in the guest bathroom, and our bedroom. I looked in the garage under the cars and in my car. More than once. I looked in the trash bag I took out when I got home that evening. No matter where I looked, my stuff was not there. It was so upsetting.
What do you do when you’re at your wit’s end? When you’ve covered the same ground over and over with the same fruitless result?
That’s when the dreaded A-word crossed my mind. Is this what the beginning of Alzheimer’s is like? It is a frightening thought, to be sure. A few months ago, I wrote of a high school classmate who died less than a year after being diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s - A Story Within a Story. It was quite sobering to realize that it happened to someone my age.
https://thestormbynorm.substack.com/p/a-story-within-a-story
I knew I had to calm myself down. Whether this incident was a precursor to Alzheimer’s or not, there was nothing I could do about that anyway. I had to focus on the present. Where hadn’t I looked? Why couldn’t I remember my actions from the night before? Where was my goddamn wallet?
The most logical and likely places were the closet and the office. I had checked both places multiple times. Obviously, I was missing something. I checked the closet again. Looked behind the dresser, dumped the clothes out of the clothes basket, moved some shoes around. Nothing.
So, I went into the office. I’m embarrassed to say that the desk was a mess. Crap all over it, as usual. I am in charge of keeping the desk cleaned off and I do a piss poor job of it. Maybe my wallet and handkerchief got lost under the crap. Nope, no such luck. Shit.
For some reason, I pulled the trash can from under the desk to have a look. This is the same trash can I’ve written about before, made by my brother many decades ago and given to me as a gift. The trash can that has been with me wherever I have lived for almost my entire adult life.
That trash can is the gift that keeps on giving because guess what was inside? My wallet and handkerchief! In that beat-up, old, homemade, wonderful, beautiful trash can!
A flood of relief washed over me.
Then . . .
I began to wonder how my stuff got in there. Something seemed, well, odd. I mean, yes, it was odd that my wallet and handkerchief wound up in the trash, but there was an additional oddness to it. The wallet and handkerchief were stacked neatly one on top of the other, just like when I empty my pockets and put them on the desk, as I have done countless times before. If the wallet and handkerchief had somehow gotten knocked off of the desk and fell into the trash can, they most likely would not have ended up neatly one on top of the other. And the trash can is kept under the desk, making it impossible for something to fall off the desk into the trash anyway.
I do not remember doing it, but I had to have placed them in there. Purposely. But, why? Why in the world would I do such a strange thing?
I vaguely remember seeing a scrap of paper on an end table when I got home from the Dairy Queen. I may have grabbed it up to throw away as I went to the office to put my wallet and handkerchief on the desk. And, I must have put the scrap of paper on the desk and my wallet and handkerchief in the trash can. I’m sure I must have been thinking about something else at the time. Because, usually, emptying one’s pockets or throwing something in the trash do not require a singular focus or concentration.
Except for me, now, maybe it does.
So, I’ll ask the question again - Is it simply a case of absentmindedness that happens to everyone on occasion, or is it the beginning of something far worse? I wish I knew, but dwelling on it will not do me any good. I have no choice but to focus on the present.
I do know one thing, though. I’ll be first in line with my sleeve rolled up if and when a vaccine for Alzheimer’s becomes available.
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Absentmindedness plain and simple. Have no worries.