David called me from London on FaceTime yesterday morning. I’d become happy on Thursday when I discovered whispering as a way to communicate. People can hear me well on FaceTime when I whisper, but the call with David yesterday revealed problems with whispering. I get monster blocks like I did when I was a stutterer. I can be whispering away, and then I just stop and can’t continue. Sigh. My brain does not want me to communicate with people, that is clear.
We walked with our friends yesterday morning. It was a good long walk under an overcast but bright sky. There was no danger of rain, and I could get words out. Or so I thought. Although I thought I was getting words out, Regina couldn’t understand them. Sigh. I felt more visible, more there, though this time with my friends. Progress is being made in my acceptance of myself. After the walk, I rushed home to be here when the water arrived.
I needn’t have hurried. He didn’t get here until just past 14:00. But what joy I felt hearing the spa motor start without any weird noises, and to see the water circulating. There was a bit of rainwater in the tub already, and there were needles and some bug carcasses that I will remove today when I get into the tub. I’m very excited about having the spa going again.
I planted another vine on the fence surrounding my edible garden. It’s my second Jasmine and I’m hoping it will bloom this year. I have some extremely fragrant plants in Pinecone Park, and I could not be happier about that. My nose brings me great pleasure.
From the Department of Small Blessings: I am very impressed with Sheba who is cooperating with me even though I cannot say the words with which I’ve protected her, getting her to sit when people or bikes approach us on the trails. Yesterday afternoon, she did all I asked of her when the water arrived, responding to sounds that I made instead of words. What a pal she is!
•
Because I was an only child to Don and Connie, and because they both left the family home, I experienced a lot of silent solitude. And here I am, with the switch off. I have no expectation of recovering my voice. When this situation came on, I knew it was here to stay. I felt it immediately when I found my speech was gone. That’s why I got busy with adaptation.
Now, silence feels like a prison. I’m learning ways to communicate, but I will never again have a true conversation, and exchange of ideas. I can only do that in writing. I’m thrown back into a time when people wrote letters.
No sooner did I discover whispering, than I started stuttering strongly and I get very long blocks. In a nutshell: My oral communication is fucked. Solitary confinement.
I keep a diary. It’s stream of consciousness. The file icon sits on my desktop, and I write in it often every day. I keep a record of my feelings in it; I will cut and paste from it in into the chat function of Zoom on my upcoming session with Dr. S. You never know, I might get something published using quotes from my diary about losing my voice.
I’m very worried of what’s ahead. I don’t look forward to any interaction with people. It’s so fucking scary.
•
Every day now, begins with the grim realization that I still cannot speak. But this morning, my sad beginning turned happier. The hot tub was a nice and toasty 101°. I turned it up one degree. I could hardly wait to get into it this morning, but first I had to feed everyone and light the fire.
And more good news: A week of sunshine is ahead with afternoon temperatures reaching the high teens. What a great first week of having the spa working again. And I don’t have to communicate until Tuesday when I Zoom with Dr. S.
We’ll walk a few times today, I’ll probably have two spas, and as for the remainder of the day, I may do yard work in the warm afternoon. That would be very nice.
No comments:
Post a Comment