I wrote the title of this post -- Prescription for finesse -- on May 30. Then I saved it, knowing I'd come back and churn out a post on the topic. So here I am, ready to write. But I can't remember for the life of me what I'd intended to write about. I know it wasn't about anything news-related -- I would have saved a link to a news story had this been the case -- so it must have been something personal I'd planned to share with you.

My memory has been failing me lately. Once, I completely forgot my sister's phone number -- I call her every day so to go completely blank on how to reach her is a little odd. Another time, I left my cell phone in a drawer in my bathroom -- a drawer that holds my brush and hair clips and headbands -- and I had to call the phone from another phone to locate its whereabouts. I use the whole chemo excuse every time something like this happens. Chemo brain. A convenient explanation for my flighty tendencies.

My doctor says chemo may not be to blame. Perhaps I would have done these things prior to cancer and now I just interpret all my behavior through the chemo filter. Maybe. But I don't remember being so forgetful before toxic drugs traveled my veins. And I don't remember losing the ability to recall lost information. It's frustrating. I want my mental sharpness back. I want to know what I had in mind for this title.

For now, I must accept that what is gone is gone. For the future, I will put in writing everything I wish to remember. As for that story idea: if it ever surfaces in my brain's lost and found bin, I will happily return to write about it.