There was a time when I could go from one room in my own house to another, and actually remember why. Maybe I needed to make some tea, grab a newspaper, or look out a window. Now when I walk from room to room, I can’t remember why. And once I’m there, whatever I had to do goes to the wayside. And yet, I still stand in limbo wondering, why? Why did I come in here? Perhaps my recent doctor visit will explain this crazy new phenomenon.

“First we’ll do an eye test,” said the nurse at my general practitioner’s office.

“Eye test? Shouldn’t I go to the eye doctor for that? I have an appointment in July.” I could see the eye chart before we even entered the room, but only briefly because the nurse slammed the door on it, and me. Silently, I followed her into another room. I guess I wasn’t meant to have an eye test at the medical doctor’s office. Whatever.

“I’m going to tell you three words and you have to remember them because I’m going to ask you what they were later in this appointment,” continued said nurse.

What’s this? A game? I think, but dare not say.

“The first word is nanana,” she says, which confuses me. Could this be a foreign language game?

“And the next two words are…” I was so focused on decipheringnanana, I barely heard the second two words, and when I did, I immediately dismissed them because they were in English, and probably didn’t count.

“Now I want you to draw a clock with the time ten after eleven.” The nurse thrusts a pad and pen into my hands. She must know that I’m a gallery artist. Art is where I shine.

“What kind of clock do you want? A grandfather? A Cuckoo? How about a sundial?”

“No! A regular clock.”

“Is digital okay?”

“No! It has to be a round clock with hands. And you have to put all the numbers where they belong.” I give her the side-eye, and wonder when the actual medical exam will begin.

After drawing a fabulous circle, I close my eyes and picture the clock in my kitchen. I have dyslexia so I don’t want to reverse the numbers. I struggle to get the ‘3’ and ‘9’ on their respective sides. When it comes to the diff between the minute and hour hands, however, I can’t remember which one is longer. In a genius move, I make both hands the same length.

Finally, the nurse wraps the blood pressure cuff around my upper arm. Surprisingly, it’s good. Weight? Not so good. Gained a few. Height? Shrunk a bit. And then wham!

“What were the three words I told you earlier?” By now, I don’t even remember her telling me any words. It seems like ages ago. But I do remember the first word. ‘Nanana’ because I think, she was saying banana. And I like bananas too much, which is why I am fat now. I take a stab at winning, and say, “Banana.”

“And the second two words?” The nurse taps her foot. She wants to get this over with faster than I do.

“Clock? Time? Hands? Numbers? Circle?” I’m loath to admit I don’t remember the remaining words at all!

The nurse adds up the score. (It was a game). I’m penalized for not remembering the second and third words, for rendering equal length clock hands, and for not centering the small one perfectly between the numbers eleven and twelve. It feels as if I’m being docked for my dyslexia. But maybe, just maybe, I’m also heading toward dementia, which is why I can’t remember why I just walked into the kitchen.

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.