"HaveYou Seen my Keys?"      by  Doug Roland 

  Good thing I'm not running for office, or what I'm about to tell you would end up on Fox News or the Daily Show, or both. Instead I offer this as an important part of my journey.  It belongs in the open, not in a closet.  

My mother once told me that her greatest fear was to die in a nursing home.  In her late 60's she began to suffer memory loss.  It frustrated her to the point of claiming her remaining years.  She also had Parkinson's Disease, then senility, then dementia.  She deteriorated to the point that In her last couple of years, she did not recognize anyone, and  died a lonely, horrible death in a nursing home.  Fear was not listed the as cause of death, but that's what it was.  Were she not a woman of deep faith, it would be an unbearable way to remember her.

And so I entered my 60's with that memory near the surface of consciousness.  In the last couple of years practicing law, I thought maybe I was a closet magician.  It seemed like every piece of paper I touched would disappear.  In time it became frustrating.  My mother's fears echoed faintly.  Fortunately, I was not far from retiring.  I assumed that would be a chance to take a breath, do something different. 

Moving to South Africa was something different, at once exciting and stressful.  It was a step to an unknown place, to meet unknown people, and live in a different and very complicated culture.   But we went to work cheerfully.  Once we settled into somewhat of a routine, I began losing not only papers but also events.  Did I lock the door?  What time are we supposed to be there?  Where is my pen?  What did I do with . . . . ?  Routine things eluded me.  For example, I received an e-mail from home one evening that contained some very good news.  Next morning I read the same e-mail and was elated at the message I had already received and forgotten.

This sort of thing begins to weigh on you.  I became even more anxious, slept poorly and sensed a loss of confidence.  I began to drink more to get a little relief, to be able to laugh and have a few minutes of calm.  Of course, it was an illusion. I knew it and could no longer deny it.

About two weeks ago, I went to a psychiatrist.  He's not an ordinary psychiatrist.  He is an ordained Methodist minister, one of the first people we met when we came here in July, 2010.  His opinion is that I am suffering from anxiety and depression, and not dementia,  but a pseudo-dementia. He prescribed an anti-depressant and sent me to a neurologist.  I should add that he was the first doctor I ever visited who ended the session with prayer.  I felt better already. 

The neurologist was a student of the psychiatrist in med school.  She sent me out for tests - brain scan and an ultra sound on the carotid arteries.  The film shows something that looks like a lightning strike.  It's significant brain damage but not in a vital area.  Blood flow to the brain was good as was brain functioning.  Still the damage on the film suggests a stroke.  She has put me on vitamins.  The dreaded conditions of dementia, MS and Parkinson's Disease were ruled out.  Whew!! 

I'll be seeing the psychiatrist regularly. My condition will evolve in time.  Meanwhile, I go to work each day.  Alrready I am not feeling the same level of anxiety. I sleep better. I'm down to one or two drinks per week.  I also get cold quicker. (That should come in handy when we return to Tampa.)  I don't feel depressed, but it's not over.  I figure this problem has been building for 30-40 years.  It only showed up within the last year.  There's still a ways to go.   

As a footnote, Cheri went to our family doctor for other reasons and told her about all this.  The doctor said we would not believe how many patients she has that are on anti-depressants.  Makes we wonder, what kind of world are we in and should we be on a different path?