Forgetful Paul

“Paul, can you repeat the three words I asked you to remember?”  The doctor asked.

“Earring …” After fifteen minutes of hemming and hawing he threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

“Paul, the words were earring, purple, and wall.”

“What now, doctor?”  Helen bemoaned, placing a supportive hand on her husband’s shoulder.

“It’s too early to say.”

“He’s always been bad with dates,” Helen explained, “but the last couple of months he’s been forgetting everything from taking out the trash to putting the toilet seat down.  I thought he was just being lazy, until he said it was happening at work.”

“It could be stress related, however, early onset dementia in men under fifty is on the rise and hard to detect with an MRI.”

“So we wait to see if my husband has Alzheimer’s?” 

“There is a more invasive test, but …”

“Then do it,” Helen commanded.

“Hold on!”  Paul interjected.  “How invasive?”

“Well, I would insert a needle into your spine and collect spinal fluid.”

“M-Maybe  it’s stress,” Paul stammered.  “I could try yoga.  Didn’t you say it helps you, Helen?”  His voice reaching a fevered pitch.

“I’ve asked you …”

“I’ll go!”  Paul was resolute.

“I know this all sounds very daunting,” the doctor empathized.  “ Try the yoga and come see me in three months.”

“Honey, go get the car,” Helen instructed sweetly.  “I’ll make the appointment.”  Expecting his protests, she added, “We can always cancel.”

Paul walked out of the office, resigned that his lazy days were over.

- - - - - -

Back in the office, Helen hugged the doctor.  “Thanks, Trudy.”

“What if he sees me at Yoga?” 

“He won’t,” Helen assured her.  “Paul won’t be forgetting anything from now on.”

“So, you think it worked?”  Trudy asked.

Helen laughed.  “Absolutely!  He’s scared to death of needles.”




Word Count: 300