Felicia--Loss of Cognitivity

Today, my phone took a lovely plunge into a pool of water. Needless to say, it is currently laying in a bag of brown minute rice, its own sort of deathbed. It is not expected to wake up. In fact, arrangements are already being discussed about a replacement. A rather sad event, I know, quite devastating actually. I find it funny though that what’s worrying me is not the fact that I will probably have no way of hovering around Instagram, which I’m not afraid to admit that I’m pretty addicted to, but the first flash of horror that flooded my mind was the fact that I might lose all my contacts and pictures. Now, this is a seemingly typical worry, and reasonable too, but as it is that I have had no phone access all day, I’ve thought alot about this little detail. My biggest fear, at this very moment, is losing memories and connection to the people I know. Cognitivity. That is the word that I have probably over used more than any other word in my vocabulary this past year. It is one that appears in just about every college essay I’ve written so far, one that I hear at least once every weekend, one that pops into my head just about everyday. It was about four years ago, that I had my first encounter with this word, though I didn’t hear it, I saw it. My grandpa, Papa, as I called him, was a chocolate enthusiast, a lover of plaid flannels, a navy veteran , a perfect airplane impressionist, and the only grandpa I had ever known. He was always old to me with gray hair and thick glasses. But, I saw it slowly. It started with the denters, which ended his chocolate endeavors and his cravings for anything sweet. He didn’t always remember things. I had always seen Papa as the more dominant of my grandparents because my grandma could not hear very well and he was always the one we could communicate with more accurately. But, I started to notice a shift. It seemed sometimes that he was just nodding his head, but didn’t really understand what it was we were saying. It was within the last two years that I really started to notice the changes. I remember my mom getting phone calls at 7 pm from my grandmother. Papa was getting ready for work, though she feverently told him it was not time for work, but time for bed, he wouldn’t listen. He needed to get to work and he would leave without her if he had to. My mom must have spent fifteen minutes arguing with Papa on the phone before he finally gave in and went to bed. Incidents like these became common day events. Dementia. That’s what it came down to. By last December, he had few motor skills. He could smile and laugh, which he never lost, but his ability to make connections, think for himself, and speak his mind, were all gone. It was midwinter break when he was rushed to the hospital after having a breathing fit in bed. They discovered two fractured shoulders, the aftermath of an unknown fall or the possible mishandling of the paramedics in a rush to get him there, we don’t really know. From there to March, he lost his complete mobility. My grandparents had little money, but big bills, and finding money to get him assisted care was impossible. My mom and grandma had to do the majority of it from home. I gained my first experiences and confirmation of my future career as a physical therapist from helping aid his transportation and care. March 18th ,2015, he passed away. Since then, I guess i’ve developed an obsession with cognitivity. It’s such a scary surreal thought to me that at any moment in my life I could lose my memory or even the luxury of thinking. The scarier aspect is that the distinction between having and losing your cognitivity is blurred; you could continue on the rest of your life not even realizing your inability to communicate with other people. It was a painful experience to watch. Now that my grandmother on my other side of the family has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I am once again going through a similar experience. It probably sounds silly that my phone’s sudden downfall should lead me to reflect on my grandfather's illness, but I think it definitely reveals my current fears, and it is obvious to me why I developed them. I love thinking and I don’t want to ever reach a point in my life when I don’t have that capability. I write so much more now that I’ve considered this in order to preserve my thoughts and memories. The ability to have control over your brain is such a basic characteristic that it took this experience to make me realize how much I appreciate it. In the end, I guess there’s no way of knowing what it’s like to be the one experiencing this change in mental ability. But, what I do know from watching Papa’s ever present smile is that no matter what your brain can or cannot do, the loss of cognitivity cannot take away who you are as a person.