Lori Jensen, MD

A neurologist’s perspective on cognitive health.

Dr. Lori Jensen is a board-certified neurologist with more than two decades of clinical and academic experience in neurology and clinical neurophysiology.

Clinical practice

Her work has centered on the careful evaluation of neurologic symptoms, the interpretation of physiologic data and the practical decisions that follow. Over the course of her career, she has cared for patients across academic and outpatient settings while teaching and working within Yale Neurology.

Jensen Neurology reflects a more focused extension of that work: cognitive health approached through history, examination, selective testing and clinical interpretation, with attention to how a person is actually functioning in daily life.

She is particularly interested in the space between “something feels different” and a clear diagnosis—where context, judgment and the weighting of findings often matter as much as the findings themselves.

Clinical judgment

The value is not in collecting more data. It is in knowing what deserves weight.

Training + experience

Clinical depth, built over time.

Medical trainingLouisiana State University School of Medicine

NeurologyResidency at Brown University

Clinical NeurophysiologyFellowship at Brown University

Academic + clinical practiceMore than 20 years in neurology, including long-standing work within Yale Neurology

Speaking + teaching

Making complex ideas useful.

Dr. Jensen speaks with professional groups, leadership teams and organizations about brain health, cognitive performance and the practical implications of neuroscience.

Talks · seminars · small groups · professional audiences

LinkedIn ↗

Current work

Jensen Neurology

A private cognitive health practice in New Canaan, Connecticut, built around careful assessment, qEEG when useful, neurologic interpretation and a clear strategy for what comes next.

One of the most meaningful cognitive concerns I hear is not, “I can’t do this anymore.”

It is:

“I’m getting everything done. It just takes more effort.”

The work is getting done. Decisions are being made. Names eventually come back. Meetings are handled. Travel is managed. Day-to-day life may look largely unchanged.

But the experience of doing those things feels different.

There may be more reliance on lists. More rereading. More difficulty retrieving a word quickly. A longer recovery period after a cognitively demanding day. Less ease moving between tasks. Decisions that once felt automatic may now require more deliberate attention.

I think that change is worth noticing.

The result can look the same. The effort can change.

Most cognitive evaluation is understandably focused on what someone can do: Can you remember the information? Can you complete the task? Can you manage the demands of everyday life?

Those are important questions. But they are not the only questions.

Someone can continue managing complex work and daily responsibilities while noticing that maintaining the same level now requires substantially more concentration, organization or recovery.

People who are accustomed to managing demanding lives are often particularly good at compensating. They develop systems. They prepare more. They reduce distractions. They check their work. They quietly devote more cognitive resources to producing the same result.

From the outside, very little may appear to have changed. From the inside, it can feel quite different.

More effort does not automatically mean disease.

This is where judgment matters.

A change in memory, focus or mental stamina does not by itself establish mild cognitive impairment, Alzheimer’s disease or another neurologic disorder.

Many factors can make thinking feel less efficient. Sleep disruption can affect concentration and memory. Anxiety and mood can alter attention. Medications may interfere with cognition. Thyroid disease, vitamin deficiencies and other medical conditions can contribute. Vascular health, hearing and vision also matter.

At the same time, a new cognitive concern should not automatically be dismissed simply because work and daily life remain intact.

Research on subjective cognitive decline—the experience of noticing a change in thinking despite otherwise preserved function—shows that the relationship between subjective symptoms and measurable cognitive change is variable. In some people the concern remains benign; in others it can precede later objective change.

That is precisely why context matters.

A screening score is one data point.

Brief cognitive screening can be useful. But the more important question is not simply whether someone passes a screening test.

The more useful question is: What changed?

Was the change gradual or sudden? Is it primarily focus, memory, language, processing speed or mental stamina? Does it happen throughout the day or primarily when someone is tired, stressed or multitasking? Has anyone else noticed? Is the change beginning to alter work, relationships or daily routines?

What is happening with sleep, mood, medications and medical health?

And what does the person’s current ability look like relative to their own prior baseline—not simply relative to a population cutoff?

What is worth closer attention.

I pay more attention when a change is new, progressive, consistently noticeable or beginning to alter how someone works or lives.

Word-finding difficulty that occasionally occurs when tired is very different from steadily increasing language difficulty. Forgetting why you walked into a room is different from repeatedly forgetting important conversations. Needing more recovery after an unusually demanding week is different from a sustained loss of mental stamina without an obvious explanation.

Patterns matter. Trajectory matters. The effect on daily life matters.

And sometimes the most useful information is not a single test result, but what changes over time.

Sudden confusion, abrupt language difficulty, weakness, major behavioral change or other acute neurologic symptoms are a different category and warrant prompt medical evaluation.

The goal is not to test everything.

More testing is not automatically better medicine.

The useful question is: What information would actually change the interpretation or the decision?

Sometimes the most important next step is improving sleep, reviewing medications, evaluating a medical contributor or reducing an obvious source of cognitive load. Sometimes formal cognitive testing is appropriate. Sometimes establishing a meaningful baseline and following it over time is more informative than immediately pursuing every available test.

And sometimes an evaluation identifies a pattern that warrants more conventional neurologic investigation.

The purpose is not to prove that every cognitive concern represents disease. It is also not to dismiss a meaningful change simply because someone continues doing everything they need to do.

The purpose is to understand what the change means for that individual.

Daily life may be intact. That does not mean nothing has changed.

For many people, the earliest concern is subtle: “I’m doing everything I’ve always done. It just doesn’t feel as easy anymore.”

That may ultimately prove to be benign, situational or modifiable. But it is a legitimate clinical observation.

And when someone knows their own cognitive baseline well, I think it is worth listening.

Selected references

National Institute on Aging. Memory Problems, Forgetfulness, and Aging: What’s Normal and What’s Not?

National Institute on Aging. Assessing Cognitive Impairment in Older Patients.

Zhou C, et al. Subjective cognitive decline and objective cognitive performance in older adults: a systematic review of longitudinal and cross-sectional studies.

This article is educational and is not intended to diagnose an individual medical condition or replace personal medical evaluation.