Monday, February 11, 2013

Out of Rhythm

C. and I ended up not seeing each other for more than a week after what I’ve come to think of as The Incident at We Be Sushi, and it was strange and sad. We did exchange several voice mails, but didn’t talk directly until Sunday a week ago, and then we had a very good conversation and restored amicable relations.

Last Monday C. came over to visit in the evening, which had the flavor of a happy reunion. I was delighted to see him, but, weirdly, one second after he departed, I suddenly had a full-fledged sore throat.

On Tuesday, I still had the sore throat and felt exhausted in the evening, so I didn’t go to Howie’s, and C. also didn’t attend, but we didn’t get together.

On Wednesday I took a cab downtown to fetch my laptop and worked from home, ditto Thursday, when I felt dazed and tired, now definitely with a head cold.

Friday I was still working from home, and C. came over for lunch, which was lentil-potato-potato stew I’d made, which he complimented extravagantly, reminding me of how he raved once over some pasta puttanesca I’d made. He went off on errands of his own after lunch, and came back for a homemade dinner of green split peas and buckwheat (which I don’t think he liked quite as much). He said that evening that he was “out of rhythm,” and he’s said a time or two lately that he thinks something is wrong with his memory. Each time, I’ve said, “You might want to mention that the next time you see your doctor” and he says he doesn’t have a particular doctor he always sees and I say, “Well, whichever doctor you see, then.”

Saturday morning, I talked with C. on the phone and had to tell him over and over about my plans to go to Berkeley to meet Ann for lunch and a play. He kept saying, “Oh, you’re going to Berkeley?” as if he was hearing it for the first time, and in the past week or so, I asked him, “Did you work today?” and he answered, “I don’t know.” Sometimes in the past he’s had to think for a moment before he answers that question, like, “Hmm, did I work today? Ah, yes, I did,” so I wasn’t sure if “I don’t know” was just a bit farther down that same continuum or something really to worry about.

Ann and I had lunch at the Hotel Shattuck Saturday and then saw The Wild Bride at the Berkeley Rep and it was a pleasant afternoon, though I was still somewhat affected by my head cold.

Yesterday I was too tired to cook, so it was a resting day. I had ample time to think about C. and his memory and by evening had concluded he was sliding into dementia and bound to end up living on the sidewalk after he runs out of money, which would take about two weeks. I called Charlie E. in tears, to see if those darkest fears are at all realistic, but his household monthly potluck was about to start. He said we can speak on the phone tonight. I’m worried about C.
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