Deb Brandon: Living in Radiant Color

Sobriety Test

At my request, Joyce closed her eyes, stretched out her arm, pointed with her index finger, brought it in towards her face, and touched the tip of her nose. Just like that, in one fluid motion, with no hesitation. Then she did it with her other hand.
I asked her if she could speed it up.
She did it faster, then slower, alternating hands, while standing still, then while prancing around.
There is absolutely no chance I could pass a sobriety test, ever—I cannot walk heel-to-toe without losing my balance.
I have a note from my neurologist in case I get stopped by the cops. It states that I have trouble with my gait as a result of neurological issues, for which I am under his care.
Occasionally, on bad brain days, I have trouble with the finger-to-nose test, missing my nose and hitting myself on my cheek, my chin, or my eye. My issues with short–term memory are often entertaining, but my inability to pass the finger-to-nose test is by far the most ridiculous manifestation of my neurological deficits.
I tried in slow-motion, hesitating along the way, focusing hard, adjusting and readjusting my aim. And…touched the tip of my nose. Just like that, in one…er…faltering motion.
Joyce didn’t seem to think that the cops would be impressed.
Perhaps I should ask my neurologist to add a note about my difficulties with the finger-to nose test.