Each day feels new, and my memory of the one before is faint. Iām learning to adapt. |
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In September 2019, a seizure revealed a lime-sized meningioma pressed against my hippocampusāthe part of the brain that governs memory and language. The doctors said it was benign, but benign didnāt 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 Preciousāthe 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 donāt list symptoms or struggles. I simply say, āSeven Degrees Left of Center.ā Itās not an answerāitās who Iāve become. |
Waking up in an unfamiliar bed is easier than going to sleep in one. I thought waking up in a new place would trigger some confusion or stress, but torn out, trying to sleep in a strange new place is more difficult. Otherwise, the trip was pleasant. I adapted quickly to the surroundings. I still struggle with conversation, but my family is a blessing for understanding and accommodating my speech. |
| Doctors removed the brain tumor six Christmases ago. The days go by slowly, yet the years pass so fast. There isn't much to update these days. I have adapted to each day starting new-ish. Yet, the routine of each day is becoming familiar. I have a weekend trip planned, so we will see what happens waking up in an unfamiliar place. I would like to know if there is interest in continuing to add entries to this blog? Please like or message me if you want to hear more about this journey. Thank you very much. |