Ostomy Memories of Forgetting

It’s like they say… you don’t know what you don’t know. Likewise, when you forget something, it’s gone. Some things I don’t mind forgetting: how much it hurt, in the weeks before my ileostomy surgery, at night when the trapped hawk inside my belly fought to escape. Or even the time Rita Harley laughed in my face, buttoned her blouse, and walked off. But there’s a whole lopsided barrel filled with memories that I want to hold onto, and generally I root for memory, the enemy of forgetting. The problem is, just as hair falls out and breasts sag, memory fades. We can curse genetics and gravity all we want, but inevitability will not be denied its time. And we don’t live long enough for any kind of cyclical phenomenon to occur and we recover what we’ve lost, although I will admit that, just last week, I remembered the only time in my life that I ever hit anyone, and I hadn’t thought about that incident for decades. I’ve stopped worrying about the relative accuracy of my memories too. So what if the misperception of the years and ego have warped some memories. If it makes me look better, why should I care?

Hello HenryM.

Thank you again for another thought-provoking post. Needless to say most of my memories have faded and are continuing to fade even faster with the passing years. fortunately I have a collection of photos that I browse through every now and then which jog some of those memories back into action, if only on a temporary basis. I also have a load of writing, which reminds me of the thoughts and feelings of my past. Those trips down memory lane are like visiting a completely differerent (if somewhat familiar) world, where once I was young, or at least younger than I am today. As you rightly say: why should we care if the memories are no longer accurate? as long as they bring comfort/entertainment or simply something to occupy us when the TV no longer holds our attention.

Best wishes

Bill

Your mention of the photos is interesting.  I have often wondered whether what on its face might seem a valid memory isn't in reality merely the photograph, a frozen depiction of a moment in the past which itself is a substitute for memory, that the memory in fact does not exist, is long since evaporated into the vastness of time, leaving just this photo which then becomes a faux memory.  Does that make any sense?  In other words, I'm thinking that a glance at the photo isn't jogging my memory, it is its replacement.  I don't really remember that time, the moment captured in the photo; the photo is just a souvenir of the long lost moment.  Sorry to go off like this, but I find the whole subject troublesome. 

Hello Henry. Your reasoning sounds good to me, but this would not be troublesome for me, as it doesn't really matter whether the photos are jogging an actual memory or replacing it with a faux memory. What matters is that it brings forth more thinking /contemplation of the subject matter. This stimulates the little grey cells and reminds us that we are still capable of thinking and enjoying the experiences. I have long-since given up worrying about what I can and cannot remember. I recall some years ago commenting to my wife that, now I was getting older, I had a 'brilliant' memory. I then produced my new smart-phone and exclaimed: 'and here it is!'

Best wishes

Bill

Hi Henry, I love this post and memory is such an interesting topic. It's always seemed to me that the really bad memories are the ones that tend to fade and become much less traumatic as time goes by. By contrast, our best memories (for me, a day spent on the boat with some close friends sailing Desolation Sound) are the ones that stick with us and can be called up and re-lived at will. I think it's part of our survival instinct that protects us from having those negative memories overwhelm us. It's been said that if women truly remembered the experience of childbirth, they would never have more than one child! I find that of all my senses, it's my sense of smell that triggers my most vivid memories, strange how that works, it can take me right back to a time and place. And if things seem a little better, bigger, or more wonderful in our memories than they really were, what's not to like about that?

Getting Support in the Ostomy Community with LeeAnne Hayden | Hollister

"I FORGETTI" was the headline I once saw in New York City in that compact newspaper there. The story was that a certain gentleman from Brooklyn had the misfortune of having a dispute with John Gotti outside his club in Bensonhurst, which led to him being assaulted by Gotti and his associates. He filed a case against them, but when he found out who they were, he conveniently forgot about it, and in spite of the best efforts of law enforcement, would not identify them. That brought up the headline in the newspaper. Some forgetfulness can be induced!

Except that it's not true forgetfulness... it's called lying.  I get your point, though.