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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. |
Another week has passed, and time moves on. I did get the first review of a short story. I feel good about a 4, "Page"  I wrote in one afternoon. Reading the story today is surreal. I am trying to remember writing it. The win is I wrote a short story. It needs some cleaning up, but I wrote it. |
| As stated before, each day is a degree of starting over. The tasks and thoughts of yesterday have passed. The slate is blank, ready for another day. This is my life. I try to explain how each day starts, but nothing seems appropriate. I get up and make coffee, which is the part I have done. Then I watch some local news. From there, the day starts anew. What shall I do? What should I do? I checked the notes from yesterday. In reality, I didn't write any. Did I forget, too? Or did I get distracted and just don't do it? I don't know. I'm tired. I better stop, or the depression will shine through. Enjoy each day is all I can say. Because I know tomorrow, it will have faded away. |
| It is a Thursday, the beginning of another day. Each day is a new beginning. Today is Thursday. One might think starting over each day is a blessing. I did at first. Now that time has passed. The new beginnings are getting old. I can remember some details—the repetitive details of daily life. What I forget are the creative thoughts. Even using notes, each story lives only as long as the thoughts themselves. The daily repetitive thoughts will stick. A new idea has little chance. These few lines will only live for a short time. I can feel them fading as I try to type faster. There are blessings in every day. Cherish them. And there the focus, concentration, and... and ... then it fades away... |
This is my experience with short term memory lose. I loose the good thoughts. Like what I planned on writing today. I was excited and ready to hit the keyboard. Then it happened. The good thought vanished. What makes it worse is days like today. I know, I know there was a good thought there. Not anymore. Today is when the frustration is strong and deep. Today is when I ask why do I keep trying to write? It is for the good thoughts. They don't always vanish. Sometimes. They stick around. So here is to those thoughts. The ones that get to stay. |
Well ... I did it again and waited too long to write an entry. I admit the depression really got to me again. Since those closest to me unintentionally treat me like I am broken. I start to believe it is true. Ok, it is true. The 8-inch horseshoe scare around my ear reminds me. Expressly today because it itches. I am trying to remember simple things, like this blog. The blog serves as a reminder that I am moving forward. For example, today, I had to read some entries to remember why I started. I fell into the rabbit hole of depression and self-pity. This is a difficult hole to climb out of, more difficult when "the want too" is missing. So, I admit, "I haven't wanted too." Today is a new day, but not an epiphany day. It is just a day to reflect on my mindset. It is a day to admit I feel comfortable being broken—but in a good way. How do I make this more positive? Well, maybe by admitting it exists in the first place. I cannot change the earthquake that rattled my brain, but I can change my reactions to the current status of healing. First, Be grateful I am not in a room watching cartoons, drooling, and wearing a diaper. Second, Be easier on myself. Learning to read and write is a process. A never-ending process. Third, Stop trying to remember yesterday and live for today. Three goals that seem simple. Right? I have sent them into the universe. Like seeds in a garden, I need to nurture them to get them to grow. Thank you for reading this blog and any prayers and positive energy sent this way. |
| Nothing changes until you change your mind. This morning, I am giving it a try. Before watching the news, I sat down to write. I have always considered myself a writer, but I have to admit I haven't practiced lately. My brain is still healing. Even in these few words, the heat is building—a rather odd feeling... I have an MRI coming up—the five-year check—the last of the annual MRIs if all goes well. Five years have passed so quickly that I can't remember the time going by. The surgery feels like it was a couple of weeks ago. I have a hard time believing five years have passed, mostly because time doesn't exist in my brain as it should. Time is a salad of memories. They do not exist linearly. Instead, they are like a bowl of spaghetti. What seems like yesterday could have been last year and visa versa. My precious wife has gotten used to the chaos I can cause. The blessing is she is still with me. You know that in fitness and health. That is today. Change the start of the day. Change the day. |
| 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. |
| The trimmers are strong this morning. This happens most mornings. My coffee is scared it will splash from its worm mug. I have determined to stop coming to the lul of silence. However, that doesn't mean a post will express any outcome. Today is laundry day. Does everyone have a day set aside for specific tasks? My brain decided today is laundry day. Until the laundry is done, this loop will not stop. Well, that is until the next loop starts. Finishing is not as strong as starting. |
| I'm slowly waking from a very long sleep. The worst part is how tired I am. After such a nap, I should be well rested. Alas, that is not the case. In honesty, I lost sight of the long game. I became focused on daily tasks and did not give thought to tomorrow, knowing that tomorrow is promised to no one. Waisting today is also waisting tomorrow with the deadly sin of Acedia (sloth). |
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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. 