Chemo Brain

Chemo brain is real. The scientists admit it, after years in which they explained to us that it was simply a psychological response to the stresses of dealing with cancer and chemotherapy. But now, if you check sites such as http://www.cancer.org/docroot/NWS/content/NWS_2_1x_Seeking_Solutions_to_Chemo-Brain.asp

http://www.cancer.org/docroot/NWS/content/NWS_1_1x_Researchers_Verify_%E2%80%98Chemo_Brain%E2%80%99_in_Cancer_Survivors.asp

you’ll find that it is a medically-recognized condition. In case you had any doubts, Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Post-chemotherapy_cognitive_impairment even gives it a newer, longer, better name: Post-Chemotherapy Cognitive Impairment, which will undoubtedly be abbreviated to PCCI. What’s wrong with chemo brain (as a name)? For that matter, how did shell shock morph into PTSD? There are linguistic theories, but you'll have to look elsewhere. These days, I can't manage complex discussions.
The signs of chemo brain are memory lapses, loss of fluency, confusion, and loss of spatial orientation. For some reason, many people with this condition get depressed. So far, there don’t seem to be too many treatments for it, and all the medical profession can offer is that the symptoms seem to go away after a certain period of time. Maybe years.
In the spirit of helping others who may have this condition, I’d like to suggest ways of dealing with it and using it:

• Don’t spend a lot of time worrying about why you can’t remember whatever it is you can’t remember. If it’s important enough someone will tell you.
• A good excuse is that your brain has shut down for the time being so that you won’t lose too many cells.
• Write down everything you need to do in a small notebook that you attach to your wrist, like children’s mittens, with idiot strings.
• Remember to check the notebook occasionally.
• When your brain gives out and you stumble over a sentence, look the person directly in the eye and say, "Did you catch all that?"
• Understand that it’s okay to stand in front of the refrigerator with the door open for as long as it takes to figure out why you’re there.
• Just for fun, stare your oncologist in the eye, and say “Whoa – you’re treating me for WHAT?”
• Announce to worried friends, “At least it doesn’t affect my ability to drive.”
• Get a GPS system. This will help you find your way around the house.
• Always be thankful for the loving support your husband gives you, whatever his name is.
• If he beats you at Scrabble, scream loudly that he’s taking advantage of the handicapped.
  
  We’re off for chemo this afternoon. Jerry (see, I really do know his name) says that if I beat him during our ritual game it’s because he’s developed Chemo Brain by Lateral Transmission. I think he’s just jealous.