I'm the nurse in this photo. And I need to confess something.
For 31 years I've been telling patients with brain fog and memory concerns to get more sleep, reduce their stress, and eat better. Last year, I couldn't remember the name of a colleague I'd worked with for a decade. I did none of those things. Here's why.
I've been a nurse for 31 years, and cognitive decline is one of the hardest things I see patients struggle with. The words that vanish mid-sentence. The brain fog that sits over your thinking like a blanket you can't pull off. The appointments written down on every surface because you simply don't trust your own memory anymore. I've had patients sit across from me and ask, quietly, whether what they're experiencing is the beginning of something worse. Day after day, I see the fear behind that question.
About two years ago, it happened to me. My own thinking started to slip.
At first it was small things. Taking longer to find a word I'd used a thousand times. Walking into a room and standing there completely blank. By the end of a shift I couldn't hold a thought for more than a few seconds. But the worst part was the feeling underneath it all, the quiet, persistent worry that I was watching myself begin a journey I'd seen before. In patients. And in my own mother.