“Who is the president?” the woman in the emergency room triage asked me. Well, Donald Trump is indelible, so I’m able to get that one right. “What year is it?” she followed up.
That’s where I’m stuck. “2006?” No, that’s wrong. “2007?” I was way off. And I knew it, too. My memory couldn’t piece together the four simple digits that’d help confirm I’m living in reality. “That’s OK,” the woman assured. “A lot of people get that one wrong.” I didn’t believe her. “That’s very kind, but I think I should know what year it is.” I should have been hiding dyed eggs for my grandsons or baking a honey ham.
Instead, I spent Easter 2019 in the E.R., my husband, Bob, at my side. What the heck was wrong with me? In short, brain sag.
Read more on themighty.com