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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. |
| I took a week off because I had a problem with follow-through. The words stopped flowing. Some people may call it writer's block or a form of burnout, but it is something else. The story lost its flow. The words couldn't find the follow-through they needed to move the text forward. So, I put everything down for a few days to allow my brain to refresh. I will go back to work this week. The juices are flowing again. We often say keep writing. I wholeheartedly believe in that, but it is also okay to step back and take a break. Recharge, regenerate, and then follow through with energy. |
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Best wishes for 2026, and do please keep us in your loopy loop 
