June 25th, 1952. A date that will live in infamy.
I was born.
Time to have a review, I think, and where better to start than with my memory.
I'd like to be able to tell you what I weighed, my length, even my time of birth. But I've no idea and those who would know these things, my parents, are not around to ask.
My dad died in 1986 and my mom in 2003.
I never thought to ask them these things when they were alive, or more likely, I did ask them at some time and now I've forgotten.
My memory is like a proverbial sieve and it seems like more and more, the ratio of data retained to data input has been falling alarmingly.
I'm not too worried about it being down to the onset of old age or even early alzheimers as I've had a bad memory for as long as I can remember. Yes I can see the obvious problem with that statement so don't bother commenting on it.
I can recall very few moments from my childhood and not many more from the last few decades either, so basically my long term AND short term memories are shot. Tell me your name and 5 minutes later I'll have forgotten it. Tell me another name in that time and the loss of the first name will be almost immediate.
My brain is in serious need of a defrag. It contains lots of data but it's all over the place and most of the links have been broken. It's also very slow now and I'm in serious need of a memory upgrade. I used to think I was quite the expert on the music of the 60's - play me a tune from back then and I could tell you the name and artist most times. But put me on a quiz show and make that the quick fire round and you might as well be asking me questions about quantum physics. Yes the answers would be in my head somewhere but the time taken to get the data out of there and past my lips would mean I'd be shouting out "The New Vaudeville Band" during the commercial break.
I've long suspected that the neurons in my brain have not been releasing their neurotransmitters into the synaptic cleft causing a depolarisation of the membrane and adversely affecting the functionality of my hippocampus.
Then again, I might just be old and stupid.
Then there is my personality. As any regular reader of this blog will know, I'm the embodiment of Victor Meldrew. I spend a ridiculous amount of time chuntering at my tv or laptop when they show me news articles or reports that wind me up. I'm in perpetual email mode, ready in an instant to fire off a complaint to those companies stupid enough to leave a customer service address on their web sites. Of course they're not THAT stupid and these emails simply go into a junk folder at Head Office but usually composing and sending the email has managed to lower my blood pressure and returned me to normality. Until the next time.
The thing is, the number of silly trigger items is growing exponentially. Everything from reality shows to the spelling and grammatical errors in every forum and comment section on the internet, from people not pushing mail and flyers all the way through my letter box to people who complain about things I don't think need to be complained about ! And don't get me going about InjuryLawyers 4U !!
See, all silly minor things. I need to remember to stop sweating the small stuff. Yes, yes, back to item one. I know.
Next up, my health. Well actually it's not a great day to be reviewing that. I must've rolled out of bed the wrong way on Monday morning and have been walking like a man with a broom handle up his ass ever since. The lower back ache seems to get better each day but then I go to bed and it all takes a step backwards again. Last night I couldn't sleep at all so I got up at 5am and came downstairs to start the 'healing' process early. Maybe if I get 20 or so hours of chair rest, I'll get it sorted. Not the best way to spend a birthday.
Apart from that, I can't complain. If I knew what was going on inside me, I might have cause to complain, but as I don't, then I can't. What you don't know about can only make you stronger. I think that's the phrase !
My cardiologist told me that, just as they wheeled me into the OR. While puzzling over that, I noticed "Tinkering With Your Heart - Bypass Surgery For Dummies" on the table. I swear I heard laughter just as the anesthesia kicked in.
I think you should be given a dvd of your surgery. I mean how do you know what they did ? It's like having your car serviced. You just never know.
But I need to stop reviewing. What's done is done. Regrets ? I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention - or remember of course. This memory thing can be a blessing at times.
Time for the classic question then : if I had my time over again, would I do anything different ?
How the hell do I know ? I don't remember what I did the first time !!