Dr. Shoja Day

I almost made a comment on Facebook, but I chose not to for fear of what others might say to me in response. What I wanted to do was tell off a person who wrote a post about the experience of a friend of the writer. The writer said that their friend had been “traumatized” by a dog jumping up against her. Their friend, they said, was afraid of dogs. Fair enough.  The person was scared. I get it. But what bothered the person the most was that the dog’ feet were muddy, and their coat got dirty.

What I wanted to write was to suggest that the person not use the word “traumatized’ for something so trivial. I feel that using the T word for experiences that are short of being truly traumatic disrespects people who are dealing with real and serious trauma. 

•

Yesterday began with a short walk with Sheba because I had an ASL coffee session at Mad Rona’s at 9:30. It was rather great, except that I had a seizure in front of everyone, and I had to leave promptly at 10:30 to get home for my session with Dr. Shoja, during which I had a second seizure. It was a very good session, but it was hard on me. When it was done, I fed the brood and then had a nap. Oh, it felt good to stop and relax.

Yesterday was the second day in a row with two seizures. I’m used to my speech varying over time between better and worse, I guess the same applies to my seizures. And my shoulder is killing me again. Gilda Radner had a character who made many lines famous. One of them was, “It’s always something.”

Dr. Shoja automatically gives me a date for our next session. She doesn’t ask any more if I want to make an appointment, and I wondered if she’d stopped because she was assuming I wanted to keep going, or if she thought I needed it. I can’t believe that I have unlimited access to Dr. Shoja. I can go forever. She said so, because she knew I needed to hear that, but I believe it’s true.

I ama so fucking lucky to have her. Otherwise, where would I go to talk about all the things my body is doing over the past eight years? Change like this requires support, having Dr. S. allows me to enjoy my friendships and not drive any of my friends crazy from me complaining about my symptoms and compromises.

In those early years, I went to church every Sunday, I went to catechism on Wednesdays, and I went to cubs in the church cub pack. I also went to Catholic school for a while but quit, and I was a soloist in the church choir. I loved church, and I loved singing. I embraced Catholicism. It was strongly ingrained in me by choice. I left when puberty hit and when Connie Tyrell had her stroke. But when I had my first panic attack on a ship crossing from England to Belgium and turned to a priest I saw for help. Now I believe I found more love in our parish from the priest and my teachers, than I had at home.  The more I loved being Catholic, the more they loved me.

Through those early years, I talked to God and to our priest in confession. They answered my questions. They consoled me if I cried. I am very glad I had that experience. I’m sure it played a part in helping me grow, and I credit the church for teaching me the values I hold dear. I really took helping your fellow man to heart. I loved that aspect of church culture.

Secular life, once leaving the church was a shock. I’ve never recovered. I’m still appalled by our species.