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 Each day feels new, and my memory of the one before is faint. I’m learning to adapt. |
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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. |
| As a teenager, I started writing Syfy but didn't finish it. Then, real life started. Things happened, getting in the way of daily writing practices. The next I knew, but didn't, that writing had ended up by the wayside. Now I have the time to write, but I miss the practice. It is like going to school again. The stories are there but mottled together. The brain injury doesn't help, but it does make me more persistent. So, if you are struggling to get the words out of your head, know you are not alone. Just keep writing! |
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Sending prayers for continued improvement and recovery 
