Can you have dementia at 33?

This morning I had to go to town, which always sucks, and I had to talk to not only my son’s doctor but also my therapist, who is amazingly insightful and very, very good at what she does.  This is a recipe for disaster.  I’ve threatened to fire the woman numerous times because she is that good.  Anyway, I went, I did what I was supposed to do, yay me.

On the way home, I was hurting really bad (because I didn’t take my meds this morning because I was driving my kid *pats self on back*) so I dug out my medicine and tried to swallow and then realized I did not have a drink.  So I choked on the nasty little pill, and then started thinking that my esophagus must not be normal sized, and I was going to stop breathing, and wasn’t it ironic that I was going to die in a car accident while choking on a pill that is supposed to make me feel better.

This is the kind of crazy we’re dealing with here, people.  I eventually found an extra-strength 5-hour energy drink in my purse and drank that so I wouldn’t choke to death.  Then my purse fell off the seat, exposing the full bottle of water I had just gotten in town less than five minutes before this whole debacle.

Now I am alive, which is good, not too worried about my esophagus, which is also good, but quite a bit wound up, which could be either good or bad.  I think we should all probably be thankful that my husband still refuses to let me have a blow torch.