Wednesday, September 7, 2016

A New Lease On Life

83


Imagine being half asleep for years and then one day you were fully awake. Ultimately I can never adequately describe what a huge difference it made suddenly having unfettered nutrients going to my brain and body after years of emaciation.
While I had muddled through two scripts for 'the other science fiction television show' that I liked in the previous year and a half, my mind was now on fire with two new ideas to type up and I roared through them and was shocked by how easy they were to write and how satisfying they felt. Daina and a couple of other friends were willing test readers and gave me high marks for both of them and the scripts were soon off to my agent who was equally positive about them. She felt they were a step up from my previous effort and was eager to send them in for consideration.
After the past year of running errands with Daina and going on hikes with her patiently waiting for my uncertain shuffle as I trailed behind her, now I was unintentionally leaving her in the dust as I walked at my full stride for the first time in likely five years. On our hikes I was wanting to jog up and down the path ahead of her while she preferred to walk. With my sense of balance restored, I would delight in standing on one foot indefinitely as I waited for her to catch up to me on the trails.
My adrenal glands were back, too, as I soon discovered every time my apartment door bell rang and I was jolted by the unexpected sound. I would have to take a moment to calm down from the burst of adrenaline before answering the door. And even though I knew it was likely to happen before I reached the door, the second ring of the bell equally shot me to the ceiling. With Daina, I asked her not to ring a second time, in the case of strangers I was out of luck and just had to live with it for the next few months until I had become reaccustomed to the door bell ringing.
Also returning with a vengeance, was my stuttering. In the later years of my emaciated mind, my subconscious often forgot that I stuttered. Now it assured I would never forget it ever again as I found myself stuttering with seemingly every single word. I had to revisit all of the tricks I had learned in my childhood years and then assure I didn't develop any physical ticks as a part of using them. As Medicare covered speech therapy regardless of my stuttering being a preexisting condition, I tried to make an appointment with the speech therapist I had first seen for two sessions in Nineteen Eighty-Five, as I had gained so much from such a brief time with her. Unfortunately she was gone and they had a different therapist in her place. I decided to see her expecting the same level of skill and insight only to find that she had a completely different approach to stuttering problems. She didn't seem to have any interest into what caused stuttering, and of the variations thereof, and just used the same method for all-comers without variation. Her course of treatment was to have her patients cold call unsuspecting businesses on the phone and ask unnecessary questions about their stock.
Stuttering on the phone to people who aren't expecting it is always the worst experience. At least in person you can roll your eyes and shrug your shoulders to let the clerk know you are sorry about the speech impediment until you finally get out the words you need. Even calling people who know you and are aware of your stuttering is so much easier because they know to be patient and wait it out. The most frustrating times are when people try to 'help you' by guessing what it is you are trying to say, then not only are you trapped still trying to say what you wanted, you also have to now say that their guess wasn't what you were trying to say on top of it, adding irritation to both sides. And so this new therapist's method of 'helping people' overcome their stuttering by calling unsuspecting businesses and asking them random questions, while they were likely trying to help other customers in the store, came across as a humiliation experiment intended to make one's stuttering even worse. Her broad smile during these calls didn't help dissuade that feeling and I soon dropped her and returned to coping with my stuttering on my own.
The physical therapy for my pinched spinal nerves provided a chance to ensure my quick weight gain didn't go straight to my belly as they had me work out on various training machines while the staff watched. Curiously, I slowly gained an audience with my repeated sessions as more and more of the staff felt the need to watch me using the machines. One time a male staff member came into the work room and saw me twisting and turning as I built up my core and I overheard him tell my physical therapist I couldn't be doing that because I would hurt myself, but she assured him that, in my case, I was able to move my body that way without problems. While I don't know what they were referring to, I did remember a time in one of my college science classes when the teacher told us that men and women have differing mobility talents that the other sex didn't. His example was to place a chair on the floor next to a wall. He asked for volunteers from the students, one a man and the other a woman, and first had the woman bend over while standing next to the chair until she was at a right angle with the top of her head touching the wall. Then she was to pick up the chair and stand up. She did, but when the male student tried he couldn't, even though he was deemed to be stronger than her. He could pick up the chair, but its slight weight made it impossible for him to straighten up to a standing position as he held it. When I got home that night after class, I tried that experiment for myself and found I could pick up the chair and straighten up without a problem. At the time I didn't think much of it, but now these years later, hearing the male physical therapist whispering in shock about my mobility range, I wondered if I was unwittingly showing off a woman's ability to twist and turn even though I was deemed to be male...?
In the previous years, I found I hadn't needed to worry about my mixed-sex issue for myself as I thought I wasn't going to live much longer anyhow. Now that I realized, if I was going to live a full life span, I would have no choice but to address it.




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