Obmutescent / Meropic

New vocabulary: Obmutescent = speechless and meropic = able to speak.

My speech is as bad as it has ever been and I’m having an “episode” every day. Yesterday was the sixteen-month anniversary of the day life changed.

I’ve given up hope of ever speaking properly again so I registered for Sign Language Studies and I’m all paid up! There are two introductory courses; I plan to take both over two terms. I’m excited being a student again. In hospitals, schools and in some stores — even in unexpected places — people sign to me because they think I am deaf; soon I’ll be able to reply to them.

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I get about two emails a week from the Artistic Director of the Arts Club because he is a friend. Actually, he’s more than that. He’s like a hero to me. He’s been writing to me about our mutual friend, Bruce. I got one this morning and I was so tempted to add…”Oh, by the way, any idea of when I will hear about whether or not my play will be part of your new play festival?” But I didn’t because to do so feels disrespectful to Rachel, the dramaturge who’s in charge of the festival. Does that earn me any karma points, do you think?

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The smoke is, I must admit, practical. It is keeping the temperatures lower by 5° and filtering the infrared and ultraviolet rays so one doesn’t burn even if in the sun for a long time. And it is not bothering my lungs at all even though I have asthma. (I use my inhaler every day.)

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Something bothered someone in the results of my last blood test so I was called in to see a doctor who pushed and prodded on my liver. Then I had an ultrasound. Now more information is sought and I’m told naught. So next: another ultrasound after a fast.

This happened with my heart. Referred to a cardiologist who found nothing of concern and made me feel like I’d wasted his time. “Hey coming here asn’t my idea, doc. I was sent her by your colleague.” 

Then same thing with a neurologist over my speech: “Hey doc. Back off. Coming here wasn’t my idea. I was sent here.” Now I’m off to an internist and tests over my liver and I’m sure this, too, will come to naught.