A Great, Great Day!

I’m typing on a new keyboard. The spacebar on my old one wasn’t working well, and one letter was not working unless I really bashed it, so I’m very happy to have this new accessory. It makes typing far easier.

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We walked with our friends in the morning, and I enjoyed a very fluent chat with them. After our walk, I went to the credit union to renew my car insurance and was unable to talk to Lynn at all, even though I know and like her very much. I make note of all these things because I want to understand my patterns.

It was like Christmas yesterday, because my besides my new keyboard, the new hoodies I ordered arrived. I’m childlike with my enthusiasm over such simple things.

I pondered my happiness yesterday and realized how happy I am, at my advanced age, to be so constantly content. Why, I wondered, and I concluded that it is partially due to my lack of desire for sex or a mate, and my complete disinterest in my ego. I am not trying to ‘be someone.’ I have no interest at all in recognition; I have no ambition at all, and I reckon that is a wonderful thing.

After lunch, I read for a while before Zooming with Aidan at 14:00. I had done a lot of work that he wanted doing, and so I looked forward to hearing his impressions of what my research revealed.

Our talk was a great one. Working on this project, we work as partners, and I feel good about the work that I’m doing. I admire Aidan, and value being of service to him. And I know that he is pleased with my work. My initiative to reach out to the 911 and paramedic organizations has earned me my keep for quite a while.

At the end of the call, Aidan made a suggestion that he’s made before. He proposed that I see a speech language therapist that he knows. She is familiar with neurogenic stuttering. He sent us each and email of introduction and she wrote back and I am on my way to see if I can learn something that helps me communicate.

Yesterday, I briefed him first on working with clinics, an objective of his. I told him why I concluded that we shouldn’t by explaining to him the different governance models and the obstacles for each one. He agreed with me. Then I explained to him, an alternative target: the Health Professions and Occupations Regulatory Oversight Office.

The Oversight Office accepts complaints about the Health Professions and Occupations Act (HPOA), its regulations, and about the performance and conduct of British Columbia’s (B.C.’s) health professional regulatory colleges. Within the mandate of the HPOA is a commitment to: “Creating safety and identity protection measures and support for complainants who have experienced discrimination, sexual abuse or sexual misconduct.”

I firmly believe that dysfluent people have experienced discrimination that is systemic. We are developing data to prove that we are, and yesterday I asked Aidan to consult with his pro-bono lawyers about language. We ae focused on medical access right now, but next is banks and Aidan likes my strategy.

It was a great day. A long walk through the forest in the morning, Aidan after lunch and then beginning a conversation about speech therapy with an SLP. Jess, the therapist, suggests we have a couple of sessions and then decide on what to do: “To see if you feel it’s a good fit.”

Then I made dinner. See below. I saw a short video on YouTube of a person making pasta with lemon zest. I love all things lemon, so I decided to make the dish last night. It’s pasta in a creamy, lemony mushroom sauce, and oh my God. Fick pesto, this is just as easy and just as delicious, and I can hardly wait to make it for my vegetarian friends, Pete and Ali. It’s the lemon that’s so exciting. I would never have thought to do that. Yum. Yum.

Today I will read, walk with H.H., and have more delicious spaghetti. I’m looking forward to a feet-up, bone spurs a’danglin’ day.

ˆThe mushrooms are coming up everywhere. Look at this beauty!

A huge one!

My Plumb tree, planted two years ago, has lots of blooms.
I hope to get my first fruit this year.

My Rhodo is a'bloomin!

Getting ready to make my pasta. Chopped onion, garlic, salt and peopper,
Italian parsley from the garden, cream and sliced mushrooms.

Sautéed shrooms and onions.

My new lemon zester. It's the lemon zest that makes
this dish so, so delicious!

The cream and sugar, garlic, zest. parsley added.

Then the pasta goes into the pan.

Heaven on a plate!

Taking on the Banks

It feels so, so good to be happy again. It’s miraculous to me that although the abuse I suffered in my youth has brought on my seizures and destroyed my speech and nervous system, I have always been a relentlessly happy person. I lost that feeling for a while when this total eclipse of my speech set in, but now it’s back, and getting to live in Pinecone Park with three spectacular pets is no small part of my happiness.

I was a madman yesterday morning, getting seriously involved in domestic chores at 6:00. I vacuumed, sorted all my recycling, did laundry, cleaned the cattery, lit the fire, and got the garbage out for heading out with Her Highness. 

Also, part of my early morning also included researching how best Aidan and I might approach the problems dysfluent people have with banking institutions. My research led me to the office of the Ombudsman for Banking Services and Investments where I found lots of valuable information about customer service standards for the industry. I think I may have found our target.

Under overcast skies, and in chilly 7° air, we went walking. I’m very glad to walk when there is no rain. This Winter and Spring has been incredible. I’ve only walked once when I had to wear my rubber trousers and put a coat on Sheba. I’m glad it was dry for our walk, but I’d hoped for rain throughout the day. Instead, it got brighter in the afternoon and there were sunny periods.

I read after we all had lunch, then we went shopping and I filled the car with gas ($125!) and then we went for our afternoon walk. No emails today, I never get phone calls, and I hardly ever get mail. People used to call me very social. I suppose, in a way, I was. But it was torturing all my life. Now, I live the way, it seems, that I was meant to live. It’s what I want, but it’s weird at the same time.

Last night, I was ready for bed at 19:00, but I managed to stay up until 21:00. Fatigue has become a force in my life. I slept like I was hibernating, but what a gorgeous morning welcomed me this morning. It’s cold though (3°), and I’m sick of the cold. However, we’re in for a long dry spell and next week is going to be wonderfully warm with temperatures in the high teens. Whoopie! Next week: lots of yard work that I am very keen to do. But I’ll have to do some watering as well I imagine.

Today, we will walk with our friends, and then I am looking forward to Zooming with Aidan because I’ve done some good work recently, and I’m looking forward to talking about it with Aidan.

I Can, I Can't

Can you believe it? I’m find it incredible that the orange blowhole posted this image himself—well, his team posted it for him I imagine, but on his direction I’m sure. What an embarrassment for the USA.

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Yesterday began with good news. After all my watering on Sunday, we had some rain overnight Sunday night. Not a lot; only enough to moisten the surface, but it washed all the pollen off the deck and all the leaves on my shrubs. I did some soaking when I watered the beds and that’s what many plants needed. Still, it was very damp yesterday morning, and it felt good for the forest and all the florae. 

I’ve had two emotional shocks over my speech in the past two weeks, so I am very grateful to be feeling more or less at peace with being non-verbal. What’s most important is to keep feeling good about my friendships with a very small number of close friends. Dwight has been steadfast, and that is vital to me. He has my power of representation and is my executor.

I also feel good about declining Kris and Steve’s invitation to a dinner party. It’s not an easy thing to do with friends who mean so much to me. That’s why I proposed going on an adventure together to Mahle House restaurant in Cedar. We are going May 6^th for the table d'hôte dinner. By making the proposal, I was signalling that I am keen to be with them in a small group. I just can’t do parties anymore.

Sheba and I went for our walk at 8:15 so that I could return to Pinecone Park, drop her off, and then go into village to meet with Bruce and Dana. When I came home, I checked my cistern. After my big scare a couple of months back, when I discovered it was close to empty due to a stuck valve, I’m relieved to find it working well again. After a huge watering yesterday, it is full.

Although I can’t say words, I can make sounds with the same intonation of things that I say. I can’t say, “come on Sheba” when I want to her to come in from the yard. But I can make sounds that sound, to her, the same as when I say words. She amazes me every day with how cooperative she is. She, too, is adapting and my love for her is bursting.

I called Steve on Facetime. I could slush speak single words, sometimes two or three in a row, and he understands what I am saying, more from the tonal variance than from clarity of speech. But I’m grateful for that. It makes me feel good, less isolated, to be able to communicate very modestly with my cherished friends. That’s a big plus. After chatting with him briefly, I went off to Mad Rona’s to meet Brent and Dana.

I did rather well with Brent and Dana. It was a huge relief, then, when I was shopping later and ran into friends, nothing. I could not get a sound out. It seems to me, where I really want to communicate, I can. It is horribly flawed speech, but it’s speech. I did not do any writing when I was with them yesterday morning.

They are very nice folks. They wanted to pay me and invite me to the party. I declined on both counts. I told them gifting is great for me because I can’t communicate with words very well. We worked out that they will pick up the cakes, help me with the assembly, and lend me a pizza peel. We’ll use two peels to add layers to the cake, and Brent will make boards on which to present and serve the cakes. I suggested to Dana that she pick and dry flower petals and that we put fern fronds and dried petals on the board edges under Saran wrap, so that they platters look pretty on the table.

Aidan and I had a very thoughtful and practical discussion about our project. We are an excellent team. I sent him a lot of material that we will discuss on Wednesday at our usual time. It was so amazing, I wrote a long, long email to him on Sunday night, and a key part of it was wanting to address banking access for dysfluent people. And out of the blue, Aidan wrote to me yesterday saying survey results are also pointing to banking as problematic for stutterers and for other dysfluent people. We think alike, even separately.

I feel unlocked now, because of how I spoke with Dana and Brent, and because I can say words to my pets. So, I seem to go in and out of lock-in. I’ll get used to this horror of never knowing what is going to come out of my mouth or not come out of it. What matters most to me since the onset of these troubles, is Sheba. I’d be lost without her. 

Another light shower last night has me very happy about the state of my garden beds. It’s been such a dry Spring. The forecast is varied, with lots of cloud and some predicted showers, but at least the relentless sunshine is over for a bit. (I can’t believe I feel this way, actually wanting rain at this time of year.

Diaries as Conversations

Weather wise, it was a dull day. No sunshine, but no rain either. Once I’d done all my morning chores, I went back to bed and slept. Every time I sleep, I hope my speech is back when I rise. But when my lips won’t even move into position to say a word, I know that I am locked.

My friend, Tracey, who’s a speech language pathologist thinks I have a block. A block is when stutterers experience spaces of silence when they are trying to speak. Blocks have always been my problem. I’m less of a repeater—when stutterers repeat initial phonemes as in s-s-s-a-seven. Tracey thinks I have a semi-permanent block. 

I was identifying more as a non-verbal person, and not a stutterer, and it made me wonder about participating any longer with my stuttering groups. But Tracey said that, to her, I am still a stutterer, and I was grateful to her for seeing me that way because I get so, so incredibly much support from the stuttering community. 

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We went for our walk early. I wanted to avoid encountering any people. I won’t be as fearful of meeting people on the trails, once I have my “non-verbal” buttons to wear. It was wonderful even though it was cloudy. It was silent as we walked; the birds must have been sleeping in. Walking in the forest never fails to make me feel blissful. 

When we got home, I felt obligated to water the garden beds. I was not enthusiastic as I uncoiled my mile long hose, but in the end, I was feeling fabulous. My plants are my friends. It felt so, so good to feed them. They needed my attention and lots of water. While I was watering, the sky cleared and the day became bright and sunny.

Colleen came over. She lives next door. She was returning my little electric chainsaw. She wants to get one, but I suggested we share mine, and since I bought it, she can look after maintaining it. And she loved the idea. I share a splitter with Dave, and now a saw with Colleen. It makes so much sense to share.

I talked to Colleen and it sounded like a deaf person speaking. She understood what I was saying, but I had to go very slowly and often repeat things. I use key words, and no grammar. I’m not keen to talk like that. I’d rather write a note, but I had nothing to write on and no pen. 

It’s different when I go out. I have a nice leather purse in which I can fit my phone, a pad, a pen, and even my iPad. Plus, I wear my Apple all the time, and I wear a whistle. The degree with which being non-verbal has changed my life dramatically. Also, when I go out, I often have a written note to take explaining things or with questions apt for whomever I am visiting.

Next up was lunch. And then I rested a bit before going back to work watering the front beds and the edible garden beds. And you know, it gets me outside, and time passes constructively. I’d forgotten how great it is to be outside doing yard and garden work. I was very happy to be out there. I love my plants, and I feel like a good dad attending to them today.

When I finished watering, I had taken note of holes in the beds that I would like to fill. And one plant I really wanted was a Skimmia. I wanted a couple of them. So, I went to the nursery and they had one, but it was a nice one, and I got two bags of soil. There were two people I know at the nursery. They both were wonderful in how they responded to me being non-verbal. It gave me hope and contentment. 

When I had finished planting the Skimmia, I was toast. It was time for a spa, and since it was My Day, I cancelled our second walk. I was just too beat. I wanted to get into my jammies after the spa and settle into our wonderful evening routine. I just love our evenings. The cats love to join me on the chaise, and Sheba loves to sleep. Although we had no second walk, she had a lot of exercise being outdoors and playing with Coleen’s dog, Sosa, all day.

It hit hard, not being able to speak to the two women at the nursery. I signed that I couldn’t speak, and they hugged me. Every little thing like that helps me feel a bit better about being non-verbal. I feel good that I wrote my article in the paper, too. I told my community who I was and about the work I am doing to make the 911 service accessible for people like me. And that work is going very, very well. My initiative to write to the management of the 911 service is leading to great outcomes. 

More than that, by immediately bringing Aidan into the conversation, it became a SPACE project. Our concern has been embraced by Darren. Darren is our contact at BC Emergency Health Services. The outcomes of our teamwork will become an achievement SPACE can proudly announce and own—just as we move to trying to develop a healthy membership for our society.

I keep diaries for the two people for whom my thoughts and questions play a big part of our relationship: Dr. S. and Aidan. When I send the text of the diary to them, I wait until there are lots of thoughts too share. Writing Aidan’s diary has given me a new form of communicating with people with whom I’m regularly intellectually engaged.

Today is likely to be like yesterday, so I may get more work done, and then, with luck, rain tomorrow. Fat chance! But I shall hope. There are a million things that I want to do in the yard, gardens and shed, and soon I want to get more wood for next Winter.

This morning I am going to meet with two people who own an incredible home where Ali and Pete celebrated Ali’s birthday last Sumer. I’ve met Dana once and I’ve never met Brent. Dana was impressed with the cake I made for Ali (for 50 people) and so they have asked me to make two cakes for a big party they are having in early July.

We’ve been back and forth about things, so I’m not sure why they want to meet with me and, of course, I’m rather worried about communication. But I know it will go okay. Dana is a lovely person. And I hope to do some reading today. Yesterday, I did none. It was a working day, watering, pruning and toting.