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Thu, Feb 26, 2026

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Seven Degrees Left of Center

by Teller of Tales

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.

Show Recent Comments

10 Most Recent Blog Comments:

Winter Wonderin' Wanderin'

Feb 21, 2026 at 11:07am
In response to "I wasn’t at full capacity yesterday"

Not too shabby for someone suffering. I commisserate. Yes, not every day requires assembly line productivity.

Winter Wonderin' Wanderin'

Feb 14, 2026 at 10:05am
In response to "It is a good start for a good brain day"

Ì like that term good brain day. We need to be kinder to ourselves.

2 Like

JACE says Thank You!

Feb 12, 2026 at 9:36am
In response to "Coffee, Trim Work, and Other Things I Avoid"

Absolutely love the analogy!

I owned and operated a custom woodworking shop for more than 30 years. I loved designing, cutting and assembling my projects. But I really didn't like finishing. And like editing, finishing is critical. What's a body to do?

I so hope you're not like me--waiting until the last moment before the deadline to edit and polish.

1 Like

Kåre เลียม Enga

Feb 4, 2026 at 11:28am
In response to "On Permission to Write"

I dreaded English class. I didn't start writing in earnest until I was 47. Now... I seem to be on hiatus. I'm trying to let go and accept where I'm at.

Kåre เลียม Enga

Feb 4, 2026 at 11:23am
In response to "Almost Seven Years"

Well... I'm not good at backing up and don't ask about parallel parking as I learned to drive in rural Kansas. So... I can only move forward regardless of whether I know where I am.

No need to ask details about 1986 or 1988... a couple concussions left me clueless then... and now.

I try to accept my present reality. I'm old. I'm tired. I'm in Thailand.

Winter Wonderin' Wanderin'

Feb 4, 2026 at 11:18am
In response to "On Permission to Write"

As the Brits would say, "Carry on."

Winter Wonderin' Wanderin'

Feb 4, 2026 at 11:16am
In response to "Almost Seven Years"

Now this is testimony to resilience, fortitude, and acceptance. I like the analogy of following a new map.

Amethyst Agape Angel ♡

Feb 1, 2026 at 6:08am
In response to "Left of Center This Morning"

Sending prayers for strength and healing for your niece

Jay O'Toole

Jan 14, 2026 at 3:06pm
In response to "Tinkering with yWriter"

So is yWriter another website, like WDC? Or is it AI-based software, that I recall is a big need for your benefit. I'm trying to at least be aware of these tools, whether or not I ultimately use them.

Transitions in epochs of history are challenging for me. Maybe this falls under the category of "Like walking around a table instead of staring at it from one chair." Good thought, by the way. Jay

1 Like

JACE says Thank You!

Jan 14, 2026 at 8:13am
In response to "Tinkering with yWriter"

I applaud you checking out other platforms to further your writing. Though I'm now retired I seem to have less time to devote to such pursuits. WDC keeps me busy enough. That, and I'm not comfortable seeking out something new at this point in life. Guess I'll just remain staid.

Good luck with your curiosity.

1 Like

February 12, 2026 at 6:46am

#1108172

Coffee, Trim Work, and Other Things I Avoid

This morning, I’m doubting whether I’m a real writer.

I love framing the house. I’m less enthusiastic about painting the trim.

In writing terms, I love drafting. Big ideas. Fast fingers. Characters talking over each other while my coffee is still too hot to drink. That part feels alive.

Revision?

Revision feels like reheating yesterday’s coffee and pretending it’s fresh.

The story is out of my head. The walls are up. The roof is on. Now I’m supposed to sand corners and make sure the doors don’t stick.

That’s when my brain wanders.

“Maybe it’s not good enough.”
“Maybe real writers enjoy this part.”
“Maybe I should start something new.”

Classic avoidance.

And here’s the funny part: while I’m doubting whether I’ve learned the craft of finishing, I’m sitting here writing a blog post about it.

Which is technically finishing something.

I don’t hate polishing. I just don’t get the dopamine rush from it.

Drafting is that first strong cup of coffee.

Revision is the slow sip after it cools.

Not flashy. Not dramatic. Just steady.

Framing the house is fun.

But if I want guests, I need to paint it too.

And drink fresh coffee while I’m at it.

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