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 |  September 2020 I experienced a non-cancerous brain tumor, its removal and a stroke. |
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The tumor, discovered in 2020, was located up and left from my brain's center about one inch and 7 degrees in an area responsible for coding and decoding language, triggering a condition called Aphasia. Removing the tumor was some kink of Lobotomy. That left me with sort term memory lose and erased some long term memories. Each day I have to start over because I've forgot where yesterday ended. Over time, the brain does heal. In the beginning, I didn't feel it ever would. There is a scare where the tumor used to live. The seizures are under control and no repeat of a stroke. However, I did have another heart attack. When asked how am I doing? I often reply, Seven degrees left of center. |
| Thanks to this, I never knew my family was poor. We never had donuts or sweet cereals. Breakfast was often baskets and gravy with scrambled eggs. Mom made the briskets by hand and the gravy with flour and butter. We got the eggs from chickens caged behind the house. Every morning, I would get the eggs—usually three to six, depending on the chicken's mood. Mom made chocolate toast on Saturdays. It's like the commonly known cinnamon toast, but it's better. My friends often showed up on Saturday morning to get a slice of toast. When friends wanted Mom's chocolate toast, I thought we were rich. Why else would my friends come over if we didn't have something special? When I was 12 years old, I started learning in school about money, finances, and the economy. That is when I figured out how poor we were. Using a little cocoa and sugar, my Mom made the most delicious treat to make all the kids think we were rich. If you have never had chocolate toast, you need to try it. If you have kids, you need to make it for them. I am sure they will feel special. 1 part cocoa powder 2 or 3 parts sugar to taste Spread butter on your favorite slices of bread. Anything will do, from leftover hot dog buns to brioche. Sprinkle as much cocoa sugar mix as you like. Then, toast until the bread is golden brown and the sugar melts. Trust me, it is a treat. |
| First, it is vital to see if my fingers can remember where all the keys are. Then, just let the thoughts flow and see where they go. But will the sentences make any sense? What about the grammar? I am sure that will be difficult. They say not to worry about that and write. But what? Even in free mode, the words are difficult. The sentences are choppy. I wonder what the autocorrect software is thinking. Even in this short time, my fingers are starting to ache. I am trying to get the process going. Free writing … is it free? There is so much energy being used right now. The brain injury starts warming up. I can feel the heat to the left of the center. Then, the trimmer in my right hand is no help in hitting the correct keystrokes. These are the reasons I have all but quit writing. The mechanics of using the keyboard are painful. I have pain in my fingers and a burning feeling in my head. I can tell precisely where the scar is inside my breast. Does it matter what I type? Do the words have to make sense as long as they are true? These are daily questions for me—for my words, for my sanity. I have yet to set a word count goal, but these few words are a place to start. |
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), I also have a brain injury, so I had completely forgotten about your blog. 
I'm SUPER glad you tagged me or I might never have read another post again. 
So, definitely use that thing that asks if you want to announce that you added a blog post. It will prompt me to read it. 
The words might not come as easily, but the talent is still there. 
Anyone can nominate stuff, so if you find things around WdC that you love, feel free to nominate them through "
That's amazing! I'm so happy for you because I'm sure that initial result was devastating! 
And keep in mind, this went on for years. I remember 4 years after the explosion, I went to the store, tried on 12 pairs of shoes and left with my frustrated cousin because I couldn't make a decision. I was having what I call a "bad TBI day." Though another day, I went and was able to get shoes after only trying on 3 pairs--same store, different day...a "good TBI day" when everything didn't overwhelm me. 