July-August 2025: Muscle Memories

Third Section

…..…..

Corrections:

My brother Andrew said that our Dad’s favourite song was Chattanooga Choo Choo. It does ring a bell.

Rosie said that she doesn’t remember being hoisted on my shoulders. I remember it. Maybe only once. But so there.
First thing is: I have been scheduled for a scan. It will be 14th July 2025. It was a couple of weeks later that expected, but Chris and I are pleased.

To celebrate, here is a quiz:

Where do you think the scan (or MRI, or Magnetic Resonance Imaging) will take place? Are they going to be:
• The Sussex Cricket Ground
• Montefiore Private Hospital Hove
• Royal Sussex Country Hospital
• AMEX Brighton and Hove Football Stadium
• Royal Pavilion Brighton
• Nuffield Health, Haywards Heath

To help you, here are some clues:

• The Sussex Cricket Ground does physiotherapy. Could it you any other things?
• Montefiore? I have been told that the food is good. Otherwise...

• Royal Sussex Country Hospital – I was an auditor for the Royal Sussex about 45 years ago. My colleague and myself used spud guns to make life more interesting. We were going up the stairs, covering each other with the spuds guns, when the Chief Exec came down the stairs. It was very close. We were pretending being “The Professionals”. If you are younger than 60, you probably haven’t heard of it. Does this help you? Probably not.
• AMEX – there is only one football ground offering MRI on the NHS, so how likely is it to be Brighton and Hove FC?
• Royal Pavilion – I donated blood there once, and the Pavilion became the first Indian Hospital in 1914. So, could it be...
• Nuffield Health? There’s a perfectly good NHS Haywards Heath hospital.

The answer is after the next section.

……….

My laptop isn’t working properly. That’s because of the person using it. The person is me.

I wanted to rearrange some text on my laptop. Normally I don’t have to think about it. It would be done. This time, I couldn’t remember how to do it. I looked at the keyboard. I couldn’t see anything that was helpful.

In the happy days, someone might show me, and then I’ll remember. And that’s it. It’s in my memory bank, and when it is needed I wouldn’t have to think, the memory pops up. So you have to look at the instructions. Nothing on the keyboard. Where are the instructions? Where are the clues? Let’s see what Google says:

AI Overview
“To move text, you can use either cut and paste or drag and drop. Cutting and pasting involves selecting the text, using Ctrl+X (or Cmd+X on Mac) to cut it, navigating to the desired location, and then using Ctrl+V (or Cmd+V on Mac) to paste it. Drag and drop involves selecting the text, clicking and holding the mouse button, dragging the text to the new location, and then releasing the mouse button.”

Easy? I don’t think so. When I was trying to do it, it took me at least 5 minutes, and that was more luck than anything else.

But there is some consolation. In the First Section I talked about my dad’s typewriter, and the fingers take control on the keyboard. This isn’t magic. It’s not memory. It’s muscle memory.

AI helps this time:

“Memory and muscle memory, while both referring to the brain's ability to retain information, differ significantly in their nature and how they function. Memory, in general, refers to the ability to encode, store, and retrieve information, encompassing facts, events, and experiences. Muscle memory, on the other hand, is a form of procedural memory specifically related to motor skills and physical actions, allowing for the performance of movements with increased ease and efficiency through repetition.”

Got it?

Apparently, it is particularly helpful with typing and it involves the brain forming neural pathways. But I don’t want to overstretch you. Or me.
……….

So this is what we have all been waiting for:

The results of the venue for the MRI (magnetic resonance imaging)?

Of course it was Brighton and Hove FC.
……….

I went to the AMEX, home of Brighton and Hove FC. It was the day of the MRI (magnetic resonance imaging), 14th July 2025.

Trucks had been hauled into place. Receptionist, Doctors, and Specialists do what they do. Patients pretend that they are nonchalant. And there was a 3 year old child who made a lot of noise. Apparently it’s an obligation.

It was very efficient. My scan was on time. I lay on the bed. I was given earpieces because the noise, then a headset so that I can hear what was going on. Then I was rolled into the tunnel. It was mostly loud, but sometimes it was calm. Some of the noise is like the London Tube (particularly when going round corners). I got a bit dizzy when I came out of the tunnel, but that wore off after about 2 minutes. I reckon it was 25 minutes in the tube.

That’s it. Until the diagnosis.
For weeks now I have tried to do justice for my mum.

My mum had cancer. She made a full and complete recovery. Then two to three years later she died at the age of 76. She had a stroke. She was unconscious. She died after 4 days. She died 1 minute after Mothering Day. Her last breath was peaceful.

Mum showed me how to be born.
Mum showed me how to live.
I hadn’t seen anyone die.
My mum showed me how to die.
I miss her. I will always miss her.

Take a breath.

This needs something else.
I want to change the story.

So...

The real story is that my mum was a spy from the day when she left school at the age of 14. Like a good spy, she had several different names. Florence. Jean. And the shadowy Mavis who operated undercover from 1970 to 1980. She only once slipped her alter ego when, in broad light, she threatened a Tory canvasser. It was around about 1974. The Tory asked Mum what she thought of the family recently moved next door. The Bambi family. Mum said “If I had a gun, I would shoot you.”

It’s such a pity that mum forgot her Walther PPK that day.

Not all of the above is true. But one of them is absolutely true. You really don’t have to ask. There is no prize.

The three names were:

Florence was her first name. She didn’t like it.
Jean. Middle name, tolerable.
Mavis. More difficult to explain. So I won’t.

Mum would be a good spy. I am sure that she had secrets.

……….

In the first section, I said of my dad:

“He was finishing his education when the second world war started. He joined up for the army immediately after leaving school. When he was demobbed he joined the Metropolitan Police.”

All true. But there is a lot more. He deserves more.

Dad was in the army, rising to the rank of Captain. He only once spoke to me about the war (1939 to 1945). We were walking across Wimbledon Common. I think I was 20. Dad would have been about 18 when he volunteered. The typewriter that was his, and which he gave to me, he used to write letters of condolence to the families of the soldiers who he had sent into battle and didn’t come back.

After the war, he was a Policeman, and later Sergeant. I think that was as far as he wanted to go.

He said that he was a failure because he couldn’t afford to send his children go to private school. I think that was a lucky escape.

Dad had some foibles. But when it was needed, dad became sharp, focussed, loving.

……….

It was sometime around 1980. I came home for Christmas with Dad, Mum, Alison.

Dad was going through a religious phase. We were running out of conversation. Nothing to say.

Then someone said: “Did you hear about the Irish jellyfish?……... It set.”

There was silence. And more silence. Then dad couldn’t contain himself. He exploded with laughter. He got the drinks our. Christmas started.

I know it is a bad joke, and racist. But it saved our Christmas.

……….

A few things I find difficult.

I find it very difficult to order drinks and cakes in a cafe when you go to the counter. The maximum I can remember is about 3 things. Sometimes less. I have a friend who usually has the same each time - Caffè macchiato, water with ice, and “you know what I like for cakes”. I don’t. I might have it 1 second ago, but….. gone.

Yesterday I was with Chris in a cafe. All I had to do was to go to ask for Latte
and a Americano. Mostly, I can manage this. Yesterday I couldn’t. Chris’s one shot coffee, skimmed milk, cold milk was beyond me. It was like Sally from Sally Meets Harry (not the pudding scene, it was the salad, early in the film).

It ended well. Chris got the coffee, and paid.

I go to the King Alfred Leisure Centre, and Regency Swimming Pool, twice weekly. Most of the receptionists know me. Sometimes I speak, sometimes I get muddled. They know what I am booked for. Sometimes I start to speak, then I change track, start again, and it all ends a mess. We get through.

A couple of days ago, a new receptionist was confronted with a spluttering attempt to get out what I wanted to do. She said: “You have a badminton racquet. Could it be a clue?” Brilliant. I loved it.
……….

At the end of First Section I said I had a short temper now (mostly saving it for the family). I have tried to be more calm, and I know that I have hurt people’s feelings. NHS says regarding “Living with Aphasia it can be very frustrating, confusing and difficult if you or someone you know has aphasia. It can affect people's relationships and independence in daily life, and cause anxiety, low mood and depression, loneliness or isolation.”

I guess that I have anxiety. Moody – yes I’ve always been moody. Depression, well, everyone must have that. I think the worse, which I don’t have, is loneliness or isolation.

..…….

Today (12th August 2025 – timed about 11 am), Chris rang the Memory Clinic to ask if they had the MRI scan. They said they had it. The doctors look at the scans, but only on a Tuesday. They haven’t seen the scan yet.

We don’t know how long they have had the scans, nor do we know we have to wait on a Tuesday.

What if the Memory Clinic lost the scan?
……….

Today (13 August). Wow. An appointment. Could Chris’s intervention do the trick?

You are cordially invited to
a Neurology Party
Friday 10th, 12.00 October 2025
Come as you are.
Princess Royal Hospital, Haywards Heath.

Bring a bottle. We may need it.