On the way to our house with a load of his stuff, Tim wanted us to stop at the bank so he could check his balance. I don’t know about his bank balance but his physical balance was pretty shaky. He had little episodes of “buzziness” even as I walked him in (Jerry was trying to find parking) and had to lean a thin arm against the wall. I had to support him all the way through the crowded lobby to somebody’s cubicle. Then I rounded up a manager to come attend to Tim’s banking needs.
Afterwards Tim and I waited on a bus bench for Jerry to fetch the car again and pick us up. As we sat there, Tim examined the print-out the bank manager had given him. “I get one pound and one shilling a month,” he said.
I felt little shudders go through me. Losing his memory was one thing but now he was losing his marbles.
“So I’m fine,” he finished.
Suddenly it dawned on me. He wasn’t forgetting the currency of his own country. He was citing Dickens: “Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure nineteen nineteen six, result happiness. Annual income twenty pounds, annual expenditure twenty pounds ought and six, result misery.” Mr. Micawber in David Copperfield.
His long-term memory is astounding.