Saturday, June 9, 2012

Neither Fish nor Fowl nor Good Red Herring

This is what it's like to be me:  I'm sitting in the passenger seat, husband driving, kids in the back.  Suddenly my husband pulls over and starts talking to someone.

I have no idea who it is.  Do I know him?   Or is he only acquainted with my husband?  I try to smile noncommittally.  Friendly, but not too friendly because he might be a total stranger. (I've always had trouble with facial expressions, too--both making them and recognizing them.)

Then we pull away.  I am still clueless.

A few years ago, I wouldn't have said anything.  After years and years of thinking that I should have paid more attention and not knowing what was the matter with me--to this day I still automatically conceal the fact that I don't know what's going on around me.  But now I ask.

And it turns out I know that guy.  I know his name, first and last, his wife's name, how many kids he has and approximately how old.  I've had dinner at his house.  I've met his wife at her workplace several times.  I know how my husband knows him.  I know he smokes.

Nothing wrong with my memory, except that my internal photo album is blank.

There is brief pause in the car, and then....

"So, that was his house, wasn't it?"



And then today my oldest daughter got her hair cut.  And I missed it.  She stood there, my husband stood there, and they just looked at me.  I finally realized (with my crappy facial-expression-recognition skills) that something was not right.  My husband looked at my daughter exaggeratedly.  I looked at her.  And looked.  Finally they just told me.



I haven't been able to get access to my Social Security examination records.  But I was able to find out what test the last doctor gave me.  The Weschler Memory Scale. (Nothing wrong with my memory for spelling.)  And then....

I found out that if you do poorly enough on that test (or parts of it, presumably) it can be said to prove that you are a 'malingerer' (faker).  The theory is that if you did as badly as a mentally retarded person would, and you are basically at all functional, then you must be faking it.

The only problem is, I've been in classes in public school with borderline-mentally retarded students.  I've worked, over the years, with borderline- and actually retarded fellow employees (including one job where I unwrapped damaged candy bars all day and they locked us in so the other employees couldn't wander off).  I've been in social situations with retarded people.  And sometimes they out-perform me.

Maybe you can imagine how frustrating this is.  I can't function well enough to hang around with people who know who Chopin is, and often find myself in a crowd where even attempting to explain Chopin would be a joke.  But I'm too bright to find unwrapping damaged candy bars particularly fulfilling.  The people with double-digit IQs know almost instantly that I don't belong.

And just maybe I scored too badly on that test to be taken seriously.

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