“Can you put the monkey in the oven and make me a cup of cheese please?”
No, I’m not high on the medicinal herb that is marijuana, nor have I overdosed on my meds. It’s just that for whatever reason, my brain has decided that it quite likes the words ‘monkey’ and ‘cheese’ and will therefore substitute any words that I have trouble remembering with those two in particular. Sometimes Brain likes to shake things up a bit and combine those words, so the sentence “I would love a bowl of spaghetti”, becomes “I would love a bowel of cheesy monkeys.”
But that’s not all, on no, because when Brain gets really tired, it likes to substitute the words of normal everyday things for even more nonsensical ones. Ketchup becomes ‘the blood sauce that you put on chips. Birds become ‘those flippy flappy things with wings.’ My vape gets called a ‘sucky sucky’ and my child becomes an ‘evil, soul sucking imp of Satan’…er, okay, maybe that one isn’t down to Brain…
Next up in the Brain’s armoury of ‘Mind Over Mouth’ games, is ‘you see it, you say’. This game I do not like, especially when in company. Let us observe…
Well that’s not so bad you might think, but then Brain ups the game by pretending that I also have Tourettes…
And let’s not forget the time when I told a woman that her newborn looked liked Gollum, or when I informed an old man in the supermarket that I wanted to lick his face because he looked so morish. (I meant the cake he was purchasing)
This morning I asked my womb-fruit to pass me a towel…except I didn’t. What I actually said was,“Can you pass me the cheese…the monkey…the cheesy monkey…” which then became, “no, I meant the toilet (the toilet door was open)…the fluffy fluffy…the dewberryflip (a word I use when I’m really stuck) and the shamone” (don’t ask) All the while, my devil seed knowing full well what I wanted to say, just stood there laughing, because like Brain, he finds it all amusing. I finally gave up when I asked him to “pass the dutchie ‘pon’ the left hand side”, which as anyone in Britain back in the 80s would know, is an old 1980s reggae hit.
There isn’t much that is known about fibro fog, except that it’s usually attributed to poor sleep, certain medication, stress and over-stimulation. Sometimes it’s mild and other times I can’t even remember how to use my phone or how to turn on the laptop.
I do sometimes wonder if it is down to something called Nominal Aphasia which shares much of the same symptoms of Fibro Fog, but as yet, there have been no studies to connect the two. I know at times that I am unable to speak at all and the only sounds to come out of my mouth are incoherent babbles. This is when it becomes highly distressing, especially in public and when the womb-fruit becomes my personal translator.
Most of the time though, it’s just me and a series of cheesy monkeys, which although annoying, is also rather a dewberryflip.