Zoning Out

Day 209

Some of you are undoubtedly curious about the origin of the poem from yesterday. I have been experiencing what I have come to call zone outs. Not long ago, Leslie and I left a business meeting at the same time. She headed for church to pick up the kids and I headed home. I remember calling my mother, walking the dog, and going to sit in the back yard. I didn't bother to turn on any lights, I was just sitting there in the dark. I used to do something similar with my dog when I was a kid.

The next thing I knew Leslie was calling my phone to see where I was. She had been home for some time and had put the kids to bed. I answered and told her I was in the back yard. When she asked me how long I had been out there, I didn't know. I had simply lost an indeterminate period of time.

I can think of a handful of times that this happened to me as a child and I used to occasionally lose sizable periods of time in college when my roommate would go home for the weekend. I never thought much of it, because it never really affected anyone else. When I was hiding all those years, it was imperative that I cover it up, so it never became an issue for people who were close to me. Now that others know about the "crazy," I've had to be mindful of the way this behavior effects my friends and family.

Part of the concern is that I have been off of my Concerta for a few days. I was having persistent heartburn and I needed to rule out the medication. As it so happens, it was just a sinus thing. I will resume my focus medication tomorrow and hopefully reduce the zone outs.

The second part of the concern is that my grandmother had Alzheimer's disease. I watched her suffer with it for years. Her brother also had it. In fact, they were in the same unit at the same nursing home passing each other in the hallway daily, but couldn't recognize each other's face. If that wasn't enough their sister also suffers from the disease. Three siblings with the same affliction-- no recollection of their spouses, their children, or each other. I don't know if this kind of thing runs in families, but I do know that losing my mind terrifies me. It's the only thing I fear more than deafness.

I wrote the poem to express my feelings of struggle and fear, but to also hear myself profess the hope of brighter days ahead and the many years that stretch out before me. After all, the only thing I really have is today and a good shot at tomorrow. Whatever lies beyond that, I'll have to take as it comes.