Coping with CRS

It happened again, “Honey what did you do with the whites that were in the laundry…” without finishing what he wanted to ask, my husband could see the look on my face, he said, “You didn’t…you did. Donna, I swear.” Yep, I did. They were still in the dryer, but what he doesn’t understand is that the laundry is symptomatic of everything else I cannot remember; from remembering when this or that child did this or that, to where my I left my shoes. I have been coping with CRS since, at least, 1982 and it hasn’t improved with age.

My kids say, “Mom, you remember when I tripped over the log and had a knot on my leg?” I remember two of the oldest boys playing Spiderman and Superman and bouncing a chair into a window pane.  It broke and they got spankings, and a long explanation of how Superman could not really fly and neither could they if they didn’t want another spanking. There was the pillow incident that left one child with a bloody mouth and the other lying out both sides of her mouth about how it happened. And Tristan, ah yes, my little princess that would fall off the bed in the middle of the night, and never wake up, just start banging her head on the floor and “ma..ma.ma-ing”…strange noise and probably a warning symptom of the Epilepsy, for which, she now takes drugs to control. Those were the easy things to remember because they were either traumatic for one of the kids, or so funny that even the feeble would be hard-pressed to forget. But, “do you remember a knot on a leg?” Nope, I don’t.

I cannot even remember where I put my keys Friday; hopefully, on the key rack or it’s anyone’s guess where they ended up. If I do not get up, right after a dream, and write it down it’s forgotten. But it’s not like I do that a lot…who cares what I dreamed, unless it’s a repetitive dream and then it worries me. CRS is not debilitating, it’s aggravating because I have lost very important items in my house having sat them down, and forgetting where they might be found. But, and this is important, I can remember most names because, almost, every name has an associative word that will give me a hint the next time I see certain people.

Remember the old game Animal, Mineral, or Vegetables…it works for remembering names. A couple examples:

Her name is Violet—I remember because she is a purple people eater.

His name is Robert—He’s a human that takes things (okay, that’s not nice, but it works)

 But the real trick comes when there is no such association; that kids name is brat because I don’t know what his name is but he’s a holy terror with other children.

Where did I leave my keys…hopefully, not in the truck? It happens sometimes, but I usually remember quickly, because I’m not allowed alone, too often…