Allergic to me?

As soon as I walk in, Dad tells me that someone called him, but can’t tell me who. After a lot of guesswork, I finally figure out that it was his friend Peter. Talking to Peter has gotten Dad thinking about his memory loss. He says “I think it was probably the outstanding conversation of the god-damn world. I just could not believe it that I knew all these people. He named a dozen people so it’s somehow a wonder to me that all these names came up or occurred and they were forgotten and I knew all kinds of people and people and people and I don’t know their names any more. All these people from way back, 50 years ago, I wonder if it’s had any, there must have been a lot of people who abandoned me or I abandoned them because I didn’t remember the names and I didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

Dad continued describing the conversation as it dawned on Peter that Dad doesn’t remember any of their mutual friends. “He was quite upset after about 20 minutes. I said ‘well, I’ve forgotten a lot of people.’ He said ‘You’re rather unique. Most people are completely dumbfounded and don’t know anything and wind up in a place where they won’t be bothered.’”

A while later, he asks “Will I be a different person?” and when I ask what he means, it turns out that he’s still thinking about the dementia. He says, “Is there any percentage of people who don’t know one end from the other?” “People who can’t remember things?” I ask. “Yes.” “Several million in the US.” I reply. “And I’m one of them and I didn’t realize it until today. I don’t know how I managed to avoid all that,” he says. I don’t bother trying to explain that it’s the nature of the illness.

The cat is sitting on Dad’s lap. “What’s that water running for?” he asks me. “She’s making you tea,” I tell him. “Guess we’re going to get some tea,” he says to the cat. “Would you like some tea?” The cat doesn’t answer.

“What’s guacamole?” asks Dad. “It’s kind of a paste made out of avocados.” “Paste?!” says Dad, undoubtedly thinking of glue. “They smash up the avocados with seasoning and stuff,” I explain.

We’re discussing Dad’s cat and suddenly he says, “I wonder if she’s ever fucked?” I’m startled by the question, but just tell him I don’t know.

“You’re sneezing,” Dad says, “Think you got a cold coming over?” “No, I’m allergic to something,” I tell him. “Allergic to me?” he asks. “No, I think it’s the plants outside.”