I vastly prefer Dr. Younger’s term “cognitive disruption”. My brain doesn’t feel foggy; it feels totally wrecked. It felt like using a well oiled, precision piece of equipment and suddenly having it replaced by some old clunker of a brain. One of the worst feelings of my life was looking at my lab books in my handwriting and not understanding one blasted thing that I had done just weeks earlier.
My disrupted brain has never once worked the way that it did before February, 1983, before I became ill. This sounds so pathetic, but there was one day in 1991 when I was able to go to the library with my husband (also a physicist) and the titles of the articles in the journals where my research group used to publish made sense to me. Not the articles; just the titles. And then that was gone again.
I feel like I hold this old clunker of a brain together with duct tape and rubber bands. In all of these decades, I have learned how to work around the disruption. But I miss my brain.