In the past four years, there have been more times than I care to count that I've been sure that my brain has left me. Probably many times before that even, but definitely in the past four years.
You see, four years ago, "they" (doctor, nurses, surgical staff...) took my uterus. "They" forgot to tell me that my brain was connected to my uterus when they removed my parts. I think "they" secretly had bets placed to see how long it would take me to realize that I had lost my mind.
I used to have a lot of self-induced pride for not being an airhead. I took great pleasure in knowing that I had a lot of common sense and could multi-task with the best of them. I never lost money, misplaced my keys, lost the Children's Church curriculum or forgot where I put my grocery list. Making lists, in my opinion, was for sissies and anyone that needed help keeping track of their lists needed a lot more help than that! I was self-sufficient and very proud of it.
Not so much anymore. Some days my man looks at me in complete shock wondering what happened to my brain. "They" didn't tell him either. Guess he's figuring it out, just like I had to. I guess this falls under the "for better or for worse" part of the deal for him. Poor guy 'cuz this time I'm sure it has really happened!