(Ch. 37 of my story of my journey into Deafhood…)
Sometime during the first week of my recovery, my brother and sister came into my room. They sat on the end of my bed and talked with me for a long time. They told me how, during my darkest nights, when things looked very grim, they had come into my room and sat on my bed, just as they were doing now. They both had worried and cried and prayed while I lay in the hospital, overtaken by that mysterious illness.
They spoke of their fear of losing me to death, and how they had made a promise that they would never change a thing in my room if I died. They would leave it exactly the way it was, everything untouched. My little sister said she would dust things everyday, but nothing would move. Even my socks and shoes that lay strewn across the floor would remain just where they were. I had to giggle, but they were dead serious.
Then my sister said with a sigh of relief, “Sissy, I’m glad you’re home, ’cause I don’t think I could’ve kept sleeping in our room if you had died!” We hugged, half laughing and half crying, then held hands quietly for a while.
My siblings continued to tell me how it had been for them. They had not been able to see me much while I was in the hospital. They were often in the waiting rooms or left at home. They would only catch bits and pieces of what was going on. They had strange imaginings about what I looked like after hearing how my eyes had bled and my eyelids had split open from the backed up fluid in my body. They wanted me to know that even if they could not see me as much as they wanted to, that they had been praying often, and that they were so glad God had answered their prayers.
They also described what it was like having our birth father staying under the same roof with our step-dad, Roger. When he came down to see me in the hospital, Daddy had no place to stay and no car to drive himself around. Grammie Lee had brought him from Stockton and he decided to hang around after she had left.
I don’t know how she did it, but Mama talked Roger into letting Daddy stay there. He would sleep in my bed and drive my Volkswagon Bug for a few days. Roger wasn’t too happy about my dad staying under his roof or getting a free ride, and he made sure to let people know with daily criticism and anger, but for some reason, he still let him stay. It was hard for my siblings to hear the harsh words said about my father. We all loved him in spite of his addiction. But they knew he was not always in his right mind when he was drinking. The only way daddy knew how to cope with my life-threatening illness, the only way he could handle sleeping in the same house with his ex-wife and her new husband, the only way he knew how to see his children again after 7 years, the only way to numb the pain of shame and grief — was to do it under the bottle.
It was sad to hear how things were for them, and I began to understand how deeply my illness touched people in many different ways.
My brother and sister patiently repeated themselves endlessly in an effort to make sure I was following their conversation. As I struggled to listen to what they were saying, I noticed I began to listen differently than before. I found myself paying more attention to their bodies, faces and gestures, rather than to their words. Those non-verbal mechanisms gave me more clues to support the context of what they were saying. The oxymoron is that after becoming deaf, I was actually learning to “listen” more deeply. I was listening with the ear of my heart.
There was a transformation happening as my siblings told their tales. It became clear to me that they really needed to tell their story. They were debriefing, tossing away all the anguish and fear that occupied their young hearts and minds over the last few weeks. Now that I was home and on the mend, they needed closure. By telling their stories, they sped through their grieving process and were ready to get on with their normal lives once again.
As the days passed, more and more family members and friends would need to tell me their stories too. Everyone needed closure. Even though I wasn’t always able to understand everything that was said, I listened with my heart. I understood when people had to talk about their experience of my illness. They needed to wrap it up nicely and put it away.
I began to think they were on to something. Perhaps by telling my story, I could help myself speed through my own grief and chaos as well. The problem was, I didn’t know everything about my story yet. While I was the main character, I wasn’t always conscious of what was happening to me.
And so it began. I started asking anyone and everyone who came to visit me during my recovery what their experience was with my illness, and what they remembered had happened to me. I wanted their point of view. I wanted to help them with closure while they helped me open my book. From these stories, combined with my own memories of my hospital experience, I began to put the pieces together and craft my own tale to tell, which, over time, would lead toward my own healing.
(Footnote: You have been reading the chapters in my summer storyblog entitled: My Journey Into Deafhood, which tells of the first recognition of my deafness and waking up to a world of silence. It also tells of how I grieved, coped, adapted and then thrived as I learned to embrace my Deaf self. Thank you for reading! The final installment will show on August 8th, 2007. More coming soon…)
Wow!! I couldn’t imagine how hard to go through “alone” in the hospital room while your sibs have to stay in waiting room… Whoa!!!What year was that??? The hospital did allowed my 2 kids while they were 6 yrs old and 2 yrs old to visit me in the Emergency Room while I vomited too many times in Florida before I almost died on the last day check out from hotel in our family summer vacation in 1997… They, my 2 kids and my Deaf husband did talked with me before they flew out back home in St. Louis.. The social worker took care of my cancel plane ticket to postpone for my flight because of my wierd emergency!
Left by ASL Risen on July 29th, 2007
Hi,
I’m sure you will tell us your first resources into deafness. I’m all eyes! I realize you said that you were mute from your hospitalization and such but ever get in touch with ALDA by any chance? I bet these questions will unfold in significant and related chapters!
Thanks so much…..keep those fingers flyin’ you’ve alot to offer!
Grins~Sb
Left by ~Sb~ on July 29th, 2007
You are a very brave soul..
Left by human on July 29th, 2007
My Vlog Response.
Left by drmzz on July 29th, 2007
ASL Risen,
The year was 1981. I was not alone often. Many people came. It was hard on my siblings not being able to see me due to the younger one’s age and they were often at home with my step-dad or my step-sister while mom and others were with me. I felt sad for them. Sorry to hear about your ordeal in 1997.
Hi SB.
To clarify, my voice had lost it’s tonal quality due to the tubes in my throat, but iIdid not remain mute. I speak as I did when i was hearing. My voice is lower though from the trauma in my throat back then, and it’s more grovely. Yes, I will be telling more about my exposure to deafness very soon. Stay tuned…
Human,
We are all brave souls, we are all heroes in at least one story — our own.
Mike,
I’m not sure I understand what you are signing. Help me out. Heart what? Broken? Bleed? Grief? Hard to see your hands clearly. I thought it was cute that you made my ILY-wave trademark “bye-bye.”
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on July 29th, 2007
The part when you wrote, ” I was listening with the ear of my heart.”
I just see the connection to your blog name and I expressed it in ASL, that’s all. Ear-Listening-Heart. Smile for ur trademark ending and I got it to cooperate!
Left by drmzz on July 29th, 2007
Mike,
OH! Now I see. Beautiful! I wasn’t getting the “listen” part. Lovely. I’ve never tried to actually sign that in ASL. Thank you for that nice gift.
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on July 29th, 2007
Smile, just came up like that. You can refine it from there. My fault for lacking in details beforehand. Also, as for elaborating on your chapters, I’ll wait until the end to give an overall review. “The Man In The Mask” is one of my favorites so far.
Left by drmzz on July 29th, 2007
Mike,
Kudos for spontaneity! Works for me.
T”he Man in the Mask “and “Thunderbird Rising” are both very special and meaningful chapters to me too.
Got some romantic stuff coming up ahead about how I met my husband and the role he played in the acceptance and embracing of my deaf self.
Keep reading….
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on July 29th, 2007
OIC. Romance, ack! Have fun ladies when it comes. LATER!
Left by drmzz on July 29th, 2007
Mike,
Don’t tell me you’re not a romantic guy! You just invented a sign for “listening with the ear of my heart.” I don’t buy the “ack!” You’ve got a soft spot! You know it!
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on July 29th, 2007
I don’t know that I have a favorite yet, but “Thunderbird Rising” certainly ranks right up there.
Left by Belle on July 30th, 2007
I also rather like this chapter. I like the irony of it taking the loss of hearing to truly listen - then again, I think it was an quality that was always present in you.
Left by Belle on July 30th, 2007
I know that I could be stepping over personal boundaries (mama raised me right),
but I have to ask 2 questions…
1) Are your families reading what your writing?
2) how do they (bro/sis/parents) see u now as a Deaf individual? Different or same?
Left by Josh on July 30th, 2007
Belle,
I’ve been told the same thing, that my ability to listen to people has always been present. However, I do believe becoming deaf made me aware of that, myself. I knew the moment when I began to listen differently. It began with silence.
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on July 30th, 2007
Josh,
Yes, some of my family members have read parts of my blog and this story blog. My mother has read it all. I would love to ask my mom if she would write a post to answer the second part of your question about how they see me. I would think they see me pretty much the same, but the deafness has changed parts of me and parts of our relationships.
In my book, I write more about how communication changed between different members of my family, but you’ll have to buy the book to find that out.
My mom and my younger sister probably understand me the most - I mean what it means to be Deaf. I’ve talked with them a little about it and they grew and changed with me as we all began to understand and accept what it meant for me to be Deaf — what it meant for them to have a deaf daughter and sister, etc. They are completely supportive and open to learning new things all the time.
I can say that not many people in my extended family understand what it means to be Deaf. The still see me as “hearing impaired” if anything. Occasional jokes are made about me not following the conversation, missing things or simply not hearing. They mean well, and I don’t let it get to me too much. But occasionally there is a sting. There is still a lot of ignorance.
For example, sometimes an aunt or an uncle will ask me why I don’t use hearing aids, why I don’t want to get a CI or why on earth would anyone use the term “not deaf enough?!” We never go very deep into explanations. Only surface stuff. how do I put years and years of experiential, educational and professional learning into a couple of sentences? It’s like Kevin Costner in Dances With Wolves. He just takes on the Native American culture. It starts to make sense to him, but he can’t explain it to the calvary who come to lock him up for being what they think is a traitor….
I have a few younger cousins who have taken ASL. Once in particular is quite a good signer. This inspires me.
I do not feel rejected. I feel very loved in my large clan. We’ve just never had the time or opportunity to go into depth about my journey into deafhood. However, those who have read my storyblog have made beautiful comments. They are learning. I’ll see if I can pull up some of their previous comments with the current posts so you can see….
~ LaRonda
Left by LaRonda on July 30th, 2007
hee hee, I am glad that I am not alone for stealing your sign with “waving ILY”!! Look at Mike copied you too!
Left by ASL Risen on July 31st, 2007