Memory test is not as scary or daunting as it sounds
GREETINGS my wonderful people. As you may remember I was unable to write this column for three months last spring having had a TIA (mini stroke) whilst on holiday in Whitby.
Since which I have undergone enough eye tests, driving tests, blood tests, body scans and examinations to bankrupt the NHS.
My final memory test was due this week and for once I was just a little nervous.
It didn’t help that Brian, my driver and buddy, forgot where the car park was. Not exactly the start you want on a memory test. The charming doctor who attended me said she wasn’t expecting what she found when meeting us. (A statement we hear far too often.)
Brian, of course, thought it was a compliment but he thinks everything a woman says to him is a compliment. “Go away and stop annoying me,” is a compliment to Brian.
Fortunately, I did talk him into not wearing his combat shorts which are now in their fifth summer season.
The oh-so-patient doctor asked me if I could make a cup of tea unaided. Considering the amount of tea I get through she took that as a yes. “What about eating,” she asked and Brian piped up before I had chance to answer that he delivers me meals on wheels.
What he didn’t tell her was that I do all his dog training for him AND all his ironing.
Taking good care not to mix them up.
I don’t know whether the good doctor was impressed by this but said we should ‘carry on’ doing what we do.
My two separate driving tests gave me excellent results so we moved onto socialising (apparently a very important part of the treatment).
Now, as Brian is the unchallenged champion of Cheshire cafés this was a (dare-I-say) nobrainer.
In he charged, offering to provide the bewildered doctor with a comprehensive guide to the skills required by a barista of his vintage.
At this point I forgot what we were talking about, the doc looked more bewildered than me and Brian had only got as far as Columbia.
Now, I don’t know how we did it but we somehow moved onto dogs (as you do) and I have to admit I did go on a bit.
How the good doctor managed to follow the various highways we took during her assessment I have no idea.
‘Clearly you are not suffering from dementia,’ she told me, ‘but you should come back in six months to see how you are progressing.’
“She seemed to like us,” said Brian
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after we left the surgery. You reckon… do you? I asked wondering how he came to this momentous conclusion.
“She wants to make another date with us.”
“It’s not a ‘date’ it’s just an appointment for whoever is on duty at the time.”
He looked rather crest-fallen so I promised to buy him a latte on the way home and he reverted to his usual happy self.
(I would have bought him a Happy Meal but there was a big queue.)
So, if you have to get your memory tested please do not worry, it’s not as scary as you think… honest.
NB: A HUGE thanks to the Good Doctor. She was wonderful.