Yes, some of it is. For years before chemo, I have gone into a room and forgotten why I was there. I have never been good with names, and it has gotten worse. But chemo fog is different.
PUBLISHED February 12, 2018
Jane has earned three advanced degrees and had several fulfilling careers as a librarian, rehabilitation counselor and college teacher. Presently she does freelance writing. Her articles include the subjects of hearing loss and deafness, service dogs and struggling with cancer. She has been a cancer survivor since 2010.
She has myelodysplastic syndrome, which is rare, and would love to communicate with others who have MDS.
She has myelodysplastic syndrome, which is rare, and would love to communicate with others who have MDS.
I was leaving the drive through at Wendy’s and glanced down at the passenger’s seat. My drink was in the cup holder, but where was my taco salad? I groaned as the person working in the drive through knocked on my window. I asked her where my “stuff” was. Alas, I couldn’t remember the word for “food.”
She answered that I had left it on the shelf and forgotten to pick it up. She retrieved it for me and I thanked her profusely before driving off feeling embarrassed.
Before chemo fog, I would have laughed this whole incident off. It had been a long day, because I had flown from Boston to Cleveland, got into the airport late, and then had an hour drive home. But now I knew it had a lot to do with “chemo fog,” also known as “chemo brain.”
Think of all the mental processes one goes through at a simple drive in transaction – pulling up to the order screen, deciding what you want, driving up to the window, getting out your wallet, taking out your money, putting your change and money away, then remembering your drinks and meal. All this sounds simple, but it really is not.
Add to this a chemo fog, where every simple action is being done slowly, like a dense fog has covered your brain. You have to think of each step without skipping any, like driving off without your meal!
She answered that I had left it on the shelf and forgotten to pick it up. She retrieved it for me and I thanked her profusely before driving off feeling embarrassed.
Before chemo fog, I would have laughed this whole incident off. It had been a long day, because I had flown from Boston to Cleveland, got into the airport late, and then had an hour drive home. But now I knew it had a lot to do with “chemo fog,” also known as “chemo brain.”
Think of all the mental processes one goes through at a simple drive in transaction – pulling up to the order screen, deciding what you want, driving up to the window, getting out your wallet, taking out your money, putting your change and money away, then remembering your drinks and meal. All this sounds simple, but it really is not.
Add to this a chemo fog, where every simple action is being done slowly, like a dense fog has covered your brain. You have to think of each step without skipping any, like driving off without your meal!
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