Sunday, July 8, 2012

Sorry About That, Whoever You Are

I saw you at Marshall's Home Goods in Clifton Park on Friday.  You, a person I had worked with for six years.  You, a person with whom I chatted amicably no matter what was going on in the office.  We had our differences, but it was never personal.  We had fun.

I just wish I could remember your name.

I never go to Marshall's, but I'd just left the movies (Spiderman [yes, go see it]) and was getting ready to head out of the mall, but a few more minutes in air conditioning wouldn't hurt, and you know, Marshall's has all kinds of stuff.  You never know what you might find.  Like New York Mets uniform tops.  Not T-shirts.  Uniform Tops.  Plus other T-shirts - Even a Yankee shirt (Mickey Mantle) which I'll wear when I head to Cooperstown on Tuesday - stay tuned for that.



So there I am walking around Marshall's, made it through the store and stood in line, listening to the screaming children and complaining adults.  I turned and saw you, looked without actually looking (glancing around at things, look back, glance around, and look back).  You were there with a friend/relative, and what passes for a brain now in me said "Yea, that's um, um......."

Now when I tell other people this, I always get, "Yeah, and I misplace my keys. Means you're getting old."  Yeah, I'm getting old (and grateful for it).  And yes, I walk into rooms and forget why I'm there.  But when you live in bipolar/MS world, and everything is foggy, drugged up or not, you take this as a given, all the time.  A very touching story I read recently was about this gentleman just diagnosed with MS who realized that whenever he kissed his spouse in the morning, he would say "wife". He thought it was just as one of those cutesy things, as his wife did.  Wasn't.  It was the man reminding himself that this was his wife.

So instead of going through the embarrassment of walking up and saying hello, and making it quite clear I was fumbling for a name, or even if you noticed me and came over and started the conversation, I had to hightail it out of there.

Of course, I didn't remember who you were until I was out in the parking lot, and said your name out loud.  Fortunately, no one was around to hear me.  And I figured you were long gone, so no point going back.

To the car and home, thinking about it.  I spoke of small fears in a previous note here.  A major fear is that I would be at one of those very rare family get togethers and I would forget who is there.  I would forget my own family.  Like my father did.

One thing I know is I do treasure those people I worked with, that hardy band at DSS.  More on this and the trip to Cooperstown.  I'm soloing.  I still remember the way.  I think.



1 comment:

  1. OK,OK...who was it? Intials are fine, and I'll try to guess for a while too. Maybe a tiny descriptive word or two.

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