Anybody who has known me for any length of time knows that I am the world’s worst at dates and times. This is a neural defect I can’t blame on Lyme. It’s also not ADHD, nor is it carelessness. I could blame it on falling out of a tree at the age of seven. My head cracked like an egg on the cement driveway below and I was in a coma. I am deaf in my left ear from that fall, and I like to believe that the very tiny area of the brain that processes dates and times was also damaged. Otherwise, my inability to remember dates and times is just pathetic.
My issues with this go waaaaaaaay back, and have been a family joke since I can remember. Mom often said I would be late for my own funeral. I have a tendency to forget about the month of February. Don’t ever ask me what the day and date is. Although I have a great memory for details about people and things that happened, like how one cold spring night in high school I was drinking Jack and Coke with friends (I could name them, but you know…) lying on the hood of a car parked in an undeveloped cul-de-sac listening to Peter Frampton’s “Do You Feel” for the first time, but I can’t tell you off the top of my head for certain which year Katie graduated from high school (it was 2004 or 2005, so I do have it narrowed down.) It was a source of irritation to my ex that I could never quite remember our anniversary, probably because it was in February.
I don’t do this on purpose, or for attention. Yes, I have employed many of the methods I’m sure you could suggest for me. I’ve had calendars, alarms, reminders, and sticky notes. I’ve worn rubber bands that snapped at my wrist. The problem is that I can look at the calendar and see events, birthdays, and appointments, and ten minutes later it is all gone from my brain, like it never was.
This gives my life an element of mystery, for sure. My bewilderment is genuine, and my surprise at missing something is never feigned. I’ve long since given up being embarrassed about it.
Sometimes I’d love to see an MRI of my brain while questioned about dates and times. I’m fairly certain there would be very little activity. At least I hope that is what it would show, because it’s not like I want to be this way. For me, it truly is a form of brain damage, the area of time and dates a blank canvas sparsely spattered with random dates that I do remember.
There are many stories about my inability to get dates straight. I can remember a few, especially the epic ones. The most epic, the one I hate to tell, is the time I managed to score Prince tickets when he came to Denver for two nights. The tickets were something like twentieth row seats and cost over $600, because we invited another couple to go with us. I’m guessing a lot of you can see where this story is going. We headed down to the Pepsi Center the second night, because I was sure that was the night. It wasn’t. Honestly, I was surprised they took it so well. Also surprised I didn’t get divorced over that (although it does show the level of disfunction in our relationship that I didn’t forward any info to my ex. It was a control thing between us that grew worse and worse).
There was the time I missed a mini-reunion with high school friends because I got the night wrong. I think I even argued with them that I was right. I don’t do that any more, thank goodness. No, I accept this brain fluke and try to make sure it doesn’t happen too often. I’ve also learned to ask my friends for reminders, and I always check to see if businesses send reminder texts for appointments.
Technology has become my best friend for this problem. I’m going on vacation with my friend Laura in March. Fortunately for me, Orbitz and Airbnb update my calendar for me, reducing the risk of entering the wrong dates. Yes, I do that quite often. Another quirk of my date deficiency is that a day or date that is wrong will get stuck in my brain and won’t move, like a popcorn kernel wedged between two back molars. That’s something that really drives Katie crazy. “No, mom, I already told you four times, it’s next Saturday, not this Saturday!” But Laura , bless her, reminded me to send her all the reservations and dates so she can double-check to see if I’ve screwed up and enter them on her own calendar.
Sometimes I don’t know why friends put up with this nonsense. Maybe if you are aware of it you simply accept it as a quirk and adjust accordingly, like Laura, or get annoyed and needle me, like Katie. I’m grateful the people in my life have accepted this foible of mine and I’ll gladly accept nagging, teasing, and constant reminders if it means I won’t forget.
There must be other stories, just like there are other stories about my deaf ear. If you remember any, I’d love to hear them. I’ll probably remember the memory, but not the date and time. And please, if I ever make plans with you, put it on your calendar and shoot me a couple of texts.
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