One of the frequently cited symptoms of multiple sclerosis is cognitive impairment. I don't have this. I have nearly everything else, so you might think I'd consider this trade-off a push, but I'm relieved that I have none of the cognitive difficulties that many others have. This can manifest itself in various ways, with memory problems, aphasia, and malapropisms being the chief signs. Fortunately, I remember everything, remain articulate, and choose my words deliberately.
Occasionally my memory can be burdensome. Nobody should want to remember half of the nonsense I do. For instance, it must be nearly intolerable to watch Rocky IV with me, because I know and recite the dialogue of the movie while it plays. The same goes for countless other movies, but this is the most humorous example I can think of right now. (This is probably due to Dolph Lundgren's recent cameo on Conan, which I can't seem to expel from my mind.) It's hard not to remember nuggets like "I must break you." Or "If he dies, he dies." Or "You will lose." Or "I cannot be defeated." Okay, I think those are all of his lines as Ivan Drago, in English at least (he also says "I win for me. For me!" and "He is not human. He is a piece of iron," but those lines are in Russian.). That was off the top of my head, by the way, so I think I've proven my memory acuity simply with this little aside.
It may seem at times like I'm stalling while my mind tries to catch up to whatever is being thrown at it. Again, this is not entirely the case. In fact, I'm considering what to say, and scanning my mind for the best words to use to express myself. I understand that, at times, especially in this ADD culture, impatience may set in, but TS--you can wait two seconds while I think of the word that I want to use. Sure, I can call you a "moron," but "dolt" is much more blunt and concrete.
Also, my mouth resists what I want to say. I have to twist my tongue deliberately in order to form the words I want to use. I can still be effusive--don't get me wrong--but I am less prone to rambling. This is a matter of opinion, because I'm still quite prone to ranting. Some may think that my thoughts on the interminability of a baseball game or the whole season, or the utterly boring spectacle of a soccer game, are aimless. Those who would object, though, probably love baseball, so they should be use to enduring pointless acts, like a strikeout in game 53 of 162.
Another aspect of recall comes when I hear a name or see a face. I probably shouldn't disclose this, but it's okay because I can just deny it later. This happens quite frequently with my friend Neal, who I went to high school with. I wish I could forget the bulk of those four years, but the fact is that I remember most everyone he mentions. It may take a few seconds to conjure a face mentally, but often I come up with one. Since I don't want to hear about kids or nuptials, because they are truly, truly boring, I'll furrow my brow and feign aloofness if he or someone else mentions some random former classmate. If I went to college with you, though, I was probably intoxicated with any chemical (this includes, notably, alcohol), so my lack of recognition might be valid. Plus, now with MS, I really don't care.
I say this constantly, but I cannot emphasize enough how little I care about mundane personal anecdotes. I assure you--I'm all there, so any perceived forgetfulness is really indifference. I find that I stop listening to boring stories immediately. Oblivious raconteours even get a chance to develop a soporic story into something interesting if they drag from the outset of their telling, and I see no enticing disclosures on the horizon. I know that this can be interpreted as dick-ish on my part, but again, I must repeat that I don't give a shit what impressions I leave behind. Whereas in the past my eyes might glaze over and maintain eye contact while I would think of an excuse I could use to exit the conversation, now I'll abruptly change the subject to something interesting. I don't care about your phone conversation with your mother, but I absolutely love Neko Case--don't you love this song? That last sentence actually was said by me, I think, like a year ago to my then-girlfriend. Needless to say, that relationship ran its course...
If what I am about to hear could be interesting, I'll gladly wait. My appreciation for words chosen carefully has peaked recently. This may be due to my fascination with oral constructions of language, which I've always had, that I've been allowed to indulge in considerably over the last year, or in my mildly pretentious love of good poetry (no Maya Angelou or Jewel here, in case you were wondering). However, I must reiterate that I've become aware of this just in the last year, because I wouldn't do trade interviews for my awful, debilitating, soul-wasting last job. I might love language, but I don't love it sickly enough for me to take pleasure in some anonymous person's recitations of sales figures of toilet paper or wet dog food. Ugh--whenever I think about that job I shudder. It was insane to me that my company expected me to write eighty or so pages of insipid single-spaced analyses of various sectors of industries in which I had, honestly, no interest.
One good thing about the MS is that it gave me an excuse not to suffer through little bursts of common (see: dull) trifles. Little perks such as this have to come to the forefront of my mind whenever I want to lament the limits that MS has placed on me. Sure, I can't play basketball, but I don't have to work for the man in a job that I would, definitely, resent.
This is where you should envision me weighing invisible scales in either hand, trying to think which one holds what I'd rather have.
R
