The art of neglect from my produce bin, I present to you Potato Heart.

Something’s happened. It knocked me so hard off my feet that it hurled me into a bipolar mixed state that I remain in today. Three weeks of energy, irritability, deep sadness, sluggishness and intrusive thoughts and images.

I functioned. I drove places, I visited people.

“How are you, are you married, do you have kids?”

That was the voice. I gripped the phone tighter, not quite understanding that this is the moment that I had been hoping for. He had survived his many hospital visits, for weeks at a time, then months at a time, and now I knew he was alive.

“Yes, I am married and I have a daughter.”

Something is wrong. He knows I am married and have a daughter. We’ve been “talking” for nine months, reunited through messaging, after not having seen each other since we were teenagers.

He told me about things that I already knew. He was married, had a daughter and son, and his greatest pride, his grandson.

He doesn’t remember, I realized. He doesn’t remember that we are friends as adults. He thinks we are talking for the first time since we were teenagers. In an instant, all of the laughter, the commiserating, the weekly messages, the talk of the journey to death, all forgotten.

I felt so many mixed emotions. A sadness, but also with appreciation, knowing this was a special moment.

“That’s ascites,” she therapist told me. “It’s a physical change that happens to the very ill. When a failing liver cannot filter toxins, substances like ammonia reach the brain. It can bring on memory loss. My friend with Hep B has experienced it.”

My therapist explained, “Something was telling him to reach out to you, even if he couldn’t remember why.” I felt comfort, tenderness and wonderment from her words.

“I probably won’t be calling again, well, maybe one other time to catch up.”

He did call one other time, to share a memory from our teenage antics. It’s been twenty days since I’ve heard from him. I don’t know if I will ever hear from him again. That’s true for everyone. Cherish your friends as if you are making your last memory.