Once upon a time there was a little boy who loved to talk. Then, perhaps, the prayers of his friends were answered: I’m days away from having been unable to speak for eight months.
One day an active old man broke his leg. He was bed ridden for a couple of weeks and then he started walking with crutches and then with a cane and then, eventually, without support. But he had a limp. His doctors told him with time and exercise, his limp would go away.
But it didn’t. And then one day someone asks me how to find Bruno. I tell him Bruno is in the staff room and the stranger asks me, “How will I recognize him.” And I say, he’ll be the guy with the limp.”
When did Bruno become “the guy with the limp?” When do I give up hoping my “limp” will go away?
It was easy to quickly accept that the hair I was losing so quickly at age twenty-two would not grow back. It was not easy to accept that I was gay, that Mr. Happy couldn’t stand at attention like he once did and later that Mr. Happy became agoraphobic.
Is psychogenic dysfluency to be part of my life forever?
Whereas every other symptom of C-PTSD is less intrusive or gone altogether, my speech has changed neither for the better nor for the worse.
I don’t know any more why I stay home. Staying homebound began as a reaction to having seizures. It was necessary once for me to consider every venture outdoors but that isn’t the case any more. Yet I stay home.
I’m thinking I should slow down on the dresses/costumes and get out more. I think Dr. Shoja would appreciate the effort. I walked the seawall once recently and today there is supposed to be a break in the rain so I will try to take some kind of initiative.
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