Surgery Brain

I've always had a ridiculously good memory about some things and a flat our ridiculous memory about others. I can recall the date on the calendar when my first boyfriend asked me to be his girlfriend, and I remember what shirt I wore when we went on our first date. I remember what word I misspelled in the elementary school spelling bee, and I remember my robe number from choir.

But if I stand up from my desk and walk to the front of the building to pick up books I've just been emailed about, you can KNOW that I will forget those books by the time I get to the front, if I so much as say hi to anyone between my desk and the front of my building. I write post it notes for just about everything - planting them on my lunch box to remind myself to grab food out of the fridge before leaving work and even leaving them in my bathroom to remind myself of a pre-coffee, pre-work chore for the next day.

All this sort of forgetfulness is normal and has happened for years.

But I promise you, since the ole gallbladder eviction, it's gotten worse. I forget things I never forget, and since the number of those things is small to begin with, this is very disconcerting.

Yesterday, you guys, I forgot my breakfast.

You need to know this about me, if you don't already. I don't forget food. Ever. I hear of these people who say things like "Oh I got so busy, I forgot to eat lunch." I don't even understand what that means. If my stomach growls, I can pretty much bet it's 12:02 p.m. and my body is about to hit rebellion. I meticulously plan my lunchbox contents every day...making certain there's a breakfast, a lunch, and two snacks. My eating schedule puts most babies to shame.

Bekah. Doesn't. Forget. Food.

And that's why I was entirely baffled, yesterday, when I maneuvered my way into work, purse and heavy work bag slung over my right shoulder, and lunch box precariously hanging on the umbrella clutched in my left hand...

...and I realized that lunch box was awfully light.

And then it hit me. I didn't pack my breakfast.

WHAT!!?!?!!?!?

This has never happened. In the history of ever!!

I had been so busy packing our lunches and getting dinner in the crock pot, that I completely spaced my breakfast.

I texted Ryan to tell him, and later that morning, he wrote back to see how I was surviving without food. I responded, "Did you actually think I would skip a meal?"

I packed myself in my car and drove to McDonald's to get a breakfast meal and two Diet Cokes...one for Amy and one for Lynne.

It was raining, so I hustled to the car and scurried down the road. I should back up and add that I REFUSE to go inside at this McDonald's, because a few months back, as Amy and I were enjoying a lunch there one day, we were accosted by a man I can only assume was either on drugs or off meds...or both...who ended up lashing out at us, unloading an accusation that I was a "pregnant white liar bleep" - before Amy and I vacated the premises in a hurry.

So I scooted up to the drive-thru and ordered my meal and my two Diet Cokes. I watched them display on the screen, pulled around, and the nice lady at the money window said, "You had the burrito meal?"

I nodded and said, "And the Diet Cokes." I paid and pulled up to the food window.

The guy working said, "Burrito meal?"

"And two Diet Cokes," I said.

"No." He said.

Um, okay. We can argue about it if you want.  And we did - back and forth, until finally he said, "It's not on your ticket. You didn't pay for them. If you want them, you'll have to come inside."

You can imagine my joy as I pulled into a parking place, hauled my purse into the restaurant with me, and prayed that yelling guy wasn't in the gaggle of people eating in the middle of the place.

I went to the front and said to the manager, "I was in the drive thru and I ordered two Diet Cokes, but he said I didn't pay for them. So I need two Diet Cokes."

She must have sensed the rain-soaked, breakfast-deprived desperation in my eyes, because she handed me two cups and said, "It's on me."

First of all, THANK YOU, DEAR LADY. I so appreciated the grace.

Secondly. Can you work the drive-thru on rainy days so this kind of grace can avoid raindrops?

Got their drinks, ran through the rain back to my car, and went to work. Again.

While I ate, I Googled "Memory loss after surgery."

Know what? It's a real thing. They {and THEY refers to a medical article, not Yahoo Answers} say it can last three months or more in some people. Side effect of anesthesia.

I was both relieved and defeated.

So for the next two months (or more), I plan to blame all forgetfulness on the surgery.

That's me.

Now...my husband, on the other hand. I'm not sure what he's blaming.

He made our coffee last night:

He forgot to add the grounds.