Monday - 8/17/2009 Strategery

Like many people around the world, I spent the majority of the Bush administration waiting for the president to butcher the English language. He had an uncanny ability to create new words when perfectly good words already existed. I can't imagine what it must have been like to be the president's speech writer. Imagine being his handler. Was the president so wrapped up in the moment, so passionate about the subject matter that his brain could not keep pace with his mouth? Was this an "in the moment" reaction common to those in high stress environments? Is it a medically recognized affliction?

In my case the answers would be yes...and no. In the past few months I have developed a case of a little know illness or condition called widow brain. Some clinicians call it widow's brain and yes, it shows no gender bias but widower brain is awkward to say.The symptoms are forgetfulness, trouble speaking, scattered thoughts and an inability to make general sense at times. I can only feel sympathy for the former president as I hear words come out of my mouth, I never intended to say. I feel so bad for people I know well and routinely call by the wrong but similar name. I work with a lovely young man named Shane. I've called him Sean more than I've called him Shane since I lost my husband. Thankfully he is so kind to never say anything. At this point I wonder if he would answer me if I called him by his given name. At my husband's service, I was introducing my son to a number of co-workers. I see these people 5 days a week and as I went around the circle I introduced husbands and wives, I came to a woman I had grown very close to over the course of the past year. I knew her name started with a D or was it S? What was her name? I stood there for what seemed to be an eternity and everyone was staring at me waiting for me to say.. this is Diane. But was it Diane? I couldn't remember. I was a bit surprised that no one saw the obvious neon question mark I was sure was floating just over my head and jumped in to make the intoduction. So I just.. excused myself and walked away. I have a new little trick. I am a fabulous fake sneezer. Now when I'm in a situation where I can't remember a name, I have an Oscar caliber sneeze attack and excuse myself for the moment. So far it's work.

I forget things. Not huge things but things big enough. I've left containers of cream in the car after a trip to the store only to discover them again.. a week or so later. Think about the last time someone handed you a post expiration date milk carton and said.. smell this... Now magnify that by a few 85 degree days. Not pretty. Twice I've attempted to get out of the car without putting it in park. Once was at the airport, yow. Last week, I left early for work in an effort get a jump on the day. Traffic was non-existent and I cruised on in to Starbuck's, ordered my Venti, non-fat, 2 equal latte from Cameron and was poised to start the day on a high note. As I pulled in to one of the much coveted front row parking space, only available to the early birds, I reached down to grab my latte. OK, how come there are 2 coffees there? What? Huh? As I sat in my car trying to roll back the past 40 minutes or so.. it hit me. I had first stopped, because I was so early, at McDonald's to get coffee...and then Starbucks. Later that morning I called a friend who is a clinical psychologist.. she assured me I was OK and that the fog would lift slowly but surely. She likened widow brain to asking your brain to juggle 20 or 30 balls of knowledge and emotion at once. I felt better knowing I wasn't really falling apart.

Along with the names and forgetfulness, I say things that make no sense. Not really all that different than before I became a widow, but I tend now to run words together or pronounce words in the strangest ways. I know I am sometimes in the middle of a sentence and just by the look on peoples face, I know I've said something wrong. I've been told this is common to people in high stress situations.

Once when I was very young, maybe 5Th or 6Th grade I found myself in a stressful situation where I had a great deal of difficulty communicating what was happening to me. My dad and I had gone to the airport to pick up some neighbors who were arriving home from vacation. We went in to check on their arrival, keep in mind, no cell phones, no Internet, no instant information. This was the 70's. We waited in line. As my dad approached the ticket counter, I was off to the side. And I saw it. They were big and black and shiny. Names were stenciled on the side of each different shape and sized box. My mouth got dry and I became dizzy. I couldn't breath. My dad grabbed my hand and asked if I was OK... How could he be functioning? He saw it too. How could he not react, show emotion? We met up with our neighbors, tears running down my cheeks, my head was starting to hurt from the rise in my blood pressure. I kept seeing that image over and over again... My dad whispered to the neighbors and they nodded in understanding. I didn't expect much of a reaction from them, they hadn't seen what I saw. We drove home, me gulping air as I tried to contain my sobs. As soon as I could free myself from the back seat when we arrived home, I ran for the front door. I needed my mom... she would understand, she would tell me it would be alright. As I ran into the living room.. she was there..."isawdavidcassidysluggage"... I screamed... what she said over my cries... "isawdavidcassidysluggage". A look passed between my parents... my mom questioning with her eyes the possible trauma I may have experienced.. with a cool calm only reserved for those with the clearest of thinking she asked my dad to explain. My dad took a deep breath, not sure where to being and said..."She saw David Cassidy's luggage. You know the hippie from the Partridge Family". I began to sob again.

I've been told as the stress and fog begin to dissipate, so does widow brain and it's effects.

I hope so.