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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/dalericky/day/3-11-2025
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.

March 11, 2025 at 4:45pm
March 11, 2025 at 4:45pm
#1085221
I struggle with making time. I find it much easier to waste time. Today is one of those days. It is 3:30 p.m., and nothing has been accomplished. This is a sign of my depression. Knowing it exists is one thing. Writing about it is very hard.

Yet, writing about depression is getting something done. Isn't that a win? I never knew about depression before the brain tumor. I may have had some level of depression. I don't remember being depressed. But there are several things I don't know.

One thing I learned is it is okay to say I am depressed. Most importantly, it is okay, I am getting help to deal with it. And it is okay to make time to talk about it.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/dalericky/day/3-11-2025