I am 103 years old. This morning, before breakfast, I played Chopin’s Mazurka from memory, the one I learned as a thirteen-year-old girl. I still remember the phone number from our first apartment. I remember who I lent twenty zlotys to in 1978.
I can even tell you what I ate for lunch yesterday — barley soup, a piece of fish, and beets. But this morning, I spent ten minutes looking for my glasses, and they were sitting on my nose the entire time. Old age has a way of putting a person in their place. People often ask me what I take for my memory.
They expect me to name some pill, powder, or drops. Something they can order before the end of this video. I am not going to give you that. There is no guaranteed method to prevent dementia, and anyone who claims there is either knows very little or wants to sell you something.
But I do know what I have been doing for years to keep my head off the shelf. And I know what my sister’s illness taught me. That is where this story truly begins. My name is Irena Kaczmarek.
For thirty-eight years, I taught children how to play piano, and every Sunday I helped with the organ at our church. My older sister Zosia was more talented than me. If she heard a melody just once, she could play it from memory by evening without any sheet music. She could count faster in her head than the cashier could on her machine.
She remembered everyone’s birthdays, family recipes, teachers’ names, and even who said something at a wedding that they should not have said. But after she turned seventy, she started losing small things. First it was her keys, then her appointments. She would ask three times what day it was.
She put milk in the cupboard and sugar in the refrigerator. Our family said, “Zosia was always a bit forgetful. ” No, she was not. When you have known someone your whole life, you can see the difference.
Later, Zosia forgot my name. She looked at her own son with gray hair and asked when he would be coming home from school. Eventually, she could not eat a meal by herself. I watched her and felt a fear I had never known before.
I thought to myself, “This cannot happen to me. ” Today I know that was an unfair thought. Zosia did not get sick because she was weak or lazy or because she did something wrong. Dementia is an illness, not a punishment.
It can come to anyone, even someone who lived sensibly. I had no guarantees. I only had fear and a question: what else could I do while I still could? The first thing I did was the simplest to say and the hardest to do.
Every day, I made myself do something that truly required thinking. I did not play melodies that my fingers could play on their own. I chose a piece at the exact spot where I had made a mistake the day before. I played slowly, sometimes just two measures, until my head and hands started working together again.
I solved crossword puzzles, but not the easy ones. When I did not know an answer, I did not flip to the last page right away. I left the blank space and came back to it after drinking my tea. I also learned things for no practical reason at all.
One month, I memorized a new psalm. Another time, my granddaughter showed me how to send a photo through the phone. She pressed the buttons for me maybe forty times, but the forty-first time was mine. It is not about becoming smarter every single day.
It is about refusing to choose only what is easy and familiar. The television can entertain a person, but it cannot be responsible for their life all day long. The second thing is people. I will be honest – after 103 years, not everyone impresses me.
Some people talk endlessly, others only listen so they can talk about themselves. And my friend Krysia cheats at cards so badly that I am more offended by her technique than by the cheating itself. But we still meet every Thursday. You have to remember whose turn it is, keep score, listen to three conversations at once, and notice when Krysia hides an ace under the tablecloth.
That is more work for the brain than many exercise books. After my husband died, I did not want to see anyone. I drew the curtains. I did not answer the phone.
I ate alone at the table and was glad when evening fell, because then I could go to bed without pretending the day had any meaning. One Sunday, my neighbor knocked on the door and said, “Irena, you don’t have to like me, but you will open this door. ” I opened it. She sat with me for ten minutes.
A week later, I went to church with her. Then the card games came back, and I started answering the phone again. I am not saying that conversation cures dementia. I am only saying that loneliness can silence a person so thoroughly that they stop using words, names, and curiosity.
If someone talks to you and you just nod because you cannot hear well, get your hearing checked. A hearing aid does not make you old. Pretending you understand everything takes conversation away from you. The third thing is movement.
I do not run. I do not do squats with a woman in a tight outfit from the internet. My knees have worked hard enough in this life. But every day, I get up from my chair.
I walk to the gate. I walk down the street a little. When it rains, I walk around the apartment from the kitchen to the window and back. Sometimes I put my hands on the table and do a few simple exercises that my rehabilitation therapist showed me.
As much as I can do safely. As you age, it is easy to say, “I have walked enough in my life. ” But the body does not understand retirement. When you stop using it, it becomes harder and harder to get up, to walk, to meet someone, to make your own dinner.
Movement does not give you immortality. But it helps me manage my blood pressure, my balance, my sleep, and my independence. And all of that matters for the head too. If someone has heart problems, dizziness, or has not moved in a long time, they should not start with heroics.
They should ask a doctor or therapist and start with what is safe. The fourth thing is sleep. At nine-thirty in the evening, my day ends. I do not care who won the show, who argued on the news, or who is urgently calling just to tell me other people’s business.
I turn off the television, move the phone away, and air out the room. I go to bed at roughly the same time every night. Not every night is good. Sometimes my hip hurts.
Sometimes I wake up at three in the morning and remember a conversation from fifty years ago when I should have answered differently. But I do not turn the night into a second day. When I sleep badly for a long time, I notice it right away. I find words more slowly.
I have trouble concentrating. I get more irritable, and then even Krysia seems worse than usual. If someone is constantly sleepy, snores loudly, wakes up gasping for breath, or cannot sleep for weeks, they should tell their doctor. Not everything can be fixed with lemon balm tea.
The fifth thing is on the plate, but there is no single miracle food for memory. I eat ordinary food – vegetable soup, groats, eggs, beans, fish when I can get it, a piece of chicken, an apple, sauerkraut. But not half a jar at once, because salt has its own opinions. I do not count every grain, and I do not live on lettuce.
I sometimes eat a piece of cheesecake, but cheesecake does not pretend to be my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Over time, I limited processed meals, very salty cold cuts, and food that fills you up but gives your body very little. I watch my blood pressure. I watch my sugar.
I take my medications exactly as my doctor prescribed, not as my neighbor or a commercial suggests. For memory, the whole way of life matters more than one juice, one nut, or one capsule. If someone is selling you certainty in a small box, keep your wallet closed. And then there is the last thing – a reason to get up in the morning.
After my husband died, after my sister died, after so many friends were gone, there was a time when I felt that everything important had already happened without me. Then my great-granddaughter Ola asked me to teach her how to play the piano. She sat down, put her fingers in all the wrong places, and said, “Grandma, will we make it in time? ” I answered, “If you practice, then I will try to make it in time.
” After that, she came every Saturday. I had to prepare the sheet music, remember the exercises, correct her rhythm, and make sure she did not cheat at playing the way Krysia cheats at cards. I was needed by someone again. The reason does not have to be grand.
It can be a grandson, a dog waiting for a walk, a tomato patch, a choir, a neighbor who needs groceries brought, a book you have not finished. It is not about a great mission. It is about something that reminds you that tomorrow has its own task. Now listen to me carefully.
If someone starts asking the same questions over and over, gets lost in a familiar place, struggles with bills, medications, or a simple recipe – do not wait until it gets worse. A crossword puzzle is not a substitute for a doctor. Memory problems do not always mean dementia. Sometimes they are caused by medications, thyroid issues, deficiencies, depression, hearing loss, or poor sleep.
You need to look for the cause, not say “it is just old age. ” I still remember a lot, but I also write appointments in my calendar. I keep my keys in one place. I ask my granddaughter to check important documents.
Wisdom is not about doing everything alone. It is about knowing when to accept help. I do not know why my memory has held up so well. Surely some of it is luck, some is health, and some things were completely beyond my control.
I will not tell you that I deserved a sharp mind more than my sister did. I will only say that every day I give my head work, people, movement, sleep, ordinary food, and a reason to wait for tomorrow. Not as a guarantee. As care.
In a moment, I will sit down at the piano. At four o’clock, Krysia will come over with the cards. She will cheat, I will keep score, and we will both pretend we have not noticed anything. And you, after this video, do not rush to buy memory pills.
Call someone who has been sitting alone for a long time. Maybe today, a conversation with you will be the hardest and most needed exercise for their head.