Each day feels new, and my memory of the one before is faint. Iām learning to adapt. |
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. Note ▼ |
I spent all day yesterday working on a project. I wanted to learn 3rd Person Limited POV. Just as I was starting to understand the POV, it was time to quit for the day. That meant it was bedtime. Well, this morning, as usual, I remember working on something, but it's gone. I'm going to spend this morning reading my notes and researching 3rd Person Limited POV again till it sticks. |