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Printed from https://web1.writing.com/main/profile/blog/dalericky/day/12-11-2025
Rated: 13+ · Book · Personal · #2276168

Each day feels new, and my memory of the one before is faint. I’m learning to adapt.

In September 2019, a seizure revealed a lime-sized meningioma pressed against my hippocampus—the part of the brain that governs memory and language. The doctors said it was benign, but benign didn’t mean harmless.

Surgery removed the tumor, and three days later I opened my eyes to a new reality. I could walk, I could talk, but when I looked at my wife, her name was gone. I called her Precious—the only word I could find. A failure of memory, yet perhaps the truest name of all.

Recovery has been less cure than re-calibration. Memory gaps are frequent. Conversations vanish. I had to relearn how to write, letter by halting letter. My days are scaffold by alarms, notes, and calendars.

When people ask how I am, I don’t list symptoms or struggles. I simply say, “Seven Degrees Left of Center.” It’s not an answer—it’s who I’ve become.

December 11, 2025 at 7:31am
December 11, 2025 at 7:31am
#1103440
I am searching for balance in my day. Retirement gives me long hours that look peaceful at first, but they can fill up fast or slip away without warning. Some mornings I sit down to write and realize I have lost track of time. Other days I drift from room to room and wonder how I managed to do absolutely nothing.

Finding the right mix of writing, reading, and simply living has become its own little challenge. Too much writing and my brain starts to feel like wet cement. Too much downtime and I start looking for snacks instead of sentences. Somewhere in the middle is the sweet spot, and that is what I am trying to find.

I try to give my day small anchors. A little writing with my first cup of coffee. A bit of reading when the afternoon feels slow. A walk or something simple to remind myself that life exists outside my keyboard. Some days the plan works. Other days I shrug and try again tomorrow.

What I am learning is that balance does not arrive on its own. I have to search for it. I have to shape it. Retirement gives me freedom, but I need to give that freedom some structure. When I do, everything feels steadier. The stories come easier. The quiet hours make more sense.

I am still searching, but I like the idea that balance is something I can build one day at a time.


© Copyright 2025 Dale Ricky (UN: dalericky at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://web1.writing.com/main/profile/blog/dalericky/day/12-11-2025