I’m 41 years old. My life is hectic, busy, crazy, and wonderful. Blessings abound. And for the past couple of years I’ve noticed that I have the hardest time remembering things. Little things. Sometimes big things. When it started happening more frequently, I started keeping track of those forgotten things in the “Notes” app on my phone. What time church starts. Who gave me a gift at work. My surgeon’s name. Conversations that others swear that they’ve had with me. Conversations I swear I’ve had with other people.
For about a year, I joked about it with my family and friends. “You can tell her your secret, she won’t remember the conversation tomorrow.” Is this a thing? Is this for real? Am I really losing my mind? Am I just too busy? Am I ADD?
Fast-forward to this year, 2017. I’ve been very interested in learning more about my family heritage and ancestry, so I asked for a DNA test for Mother’s Day. When signing up for the kit, I noticed they had a health analysis. They actually look at your DNA (through a vial of your spit) and can tell you all sorts of things about genetic variants that may increase your risk of developing certain health conditions…
Here’s the good news. Of the 50 health conditions they can screen for, only ONE came back with a positive genetic health risk for me: Alzheimer’s. Slightly increased risk, with one variant detected in the APOE gene. No clue what that means.
So I did what I always do. I over-analyzed it, obsessed over it for a few days. Then I decided to start a blog. That’s normal behavior, right? A logical response. Who knows if I’ll get it. But if I do, I’m hopeful that I can look back on this blog to find some forgotten memories of what happened, back when I could remember.
What Happened 