Today I was chattering along with my husband as we headed to Target to get a few necessities for the week. We were trying to make a list, and I remembered a conversation we had earlier in the week, when my husband said that we were running low on our daughters’ shampoo. So, I asked him whether we still needed “hair detergent” for the girls.
That’s right, folks, I couldn’t muster up the word for shampoo, so I called it hair detergent. The look on my husband’s face was priceless. He didn’t want to laugh at me, but he couldn’t help it and cracked up.
Those of us who have been through chemotherapy talk about something known as “chemo brain.” This is, essentially, the aftermath of the poison they mainline into you, with hopes that the medicine kills all the lurking cancer cells before it kills the host, namely you.
Chemo brain is loss of brain cells, I guess. And lately I’ve been wigged out that I got it bad! Or is it just age?
Who out there on these internets has had any kooky moments like this lately? Am I suffering from chemo brain, or is this just something that happens to folks in their 40s?
Let me hear about your “hair detergent” moments if you’ve got ’em. Soothe my sorrowful brain cells with the salve of some funny stories.