The Silent Treatment

OK, so it's day two. Much more quiet today. Still had to talk a few times to deal with things. One of the things is fleas. Everybody has got them. The cats are sick, the dogs are scratching and the bunny, well he pouts because I have to vacuum so much.
This is the only thing I put online. I have been staying off. I have to check my work email, but other than that, I am computer free. I won't lie, since I work at home and writing is such a solitary gig, I miss seeing what everybody is up to. I would much rather be catching up than dipping animals in a flea bath. But then again, who wouldn't?
I had time, real time to think about when I had been intubated and I couldn't talk for real. No air passed my vocal cords, so no matter how hard I tried, nothing came out. I remember the sheer frustration of trying to be heard. I think in some ways, that is exactly where I am now. I am trying desperately to be heard. I try getting the grids to hear me, my husband to hear me, the animals to hear me, I am constantly shoving my work out into the world so that gets heard, and yet I feel completely mute most days.
There have been days, as recent as this winter, when I thought if I disappeared, would anybody notice? If I never wrote another word, would it matter? Have I outlived my usefulness? It was a dark, cold winter this year for me. What I had was time, what I wanted was to feel relevant, if not in the world then certainly in my own household.
Back to me being a little in my head...when I was in the ICU, it was me and the nurse who watched me all the time to make sure I was still breathing, even though I was hooked up to so many machines, there was no way I would not keep going. She would ask me questions while I tried to sign my answer. Eventually, frustration of how hard it was to communicate without words overwhelmed me and I would close my eyes turning away. After that I stopped trying altogether. I didn't care about my condition or if I would speak again. Everything in that room was annoying to me. I felt zero gratitude for having lived. The state I was in, I felt like they got it wrong by saving me...until they brought the picture of Betty. If you have the book, then you know what happened next. A mother will walk through fire for her children.
I got an email from the lovely Assistant Editor that a package came to work for me. My response was, "Was it ticking?" I had lost my hopeful, optimistic nature and had fallen into pessimist-ville. I call that "falling down the rabbit hole."
I think we can all agree that me not talking was a very good idea, now. Michael, of course, thought the best and gave a group of scenarios where it is something lovely. I painted it to be a horse head. The reality was a book. In a manila envelope from Maine, there inside was a worn copy of "five people you meet in heaven" by Mitch Albom. I held the book in my hands for few minutes, flipping through the pages to see if there was note, or book mark or anything that might say why this book came my way. It is one I have wanted to read, especially because the writer writes the way I think. I hadn't gotten around to it for a number of really poor reasons. In my head I said "thank you" to the stranger who for whatever reason sent me this book. I will thank them next week properly in my column. I felt grateful it wasn't hate mail. I hate- hate mail. It makes me sad that someone took time out of their day to write awful things to a complete stranger.
I also had this thought as I held the book, I was asking if I was heard, and it turns out someone all the way in Maine, heard me loud and clear. I took it as a sign. I am not one who often knows what the signs mean, but I am trying to see them when they happen. Maine has come up as relevant in my life, two different times today. Two weeks ago Steve Martin was everywhere for me. I saw a book of his, heard music of his, Biology channel did an expose of him and then I had tweeted a response to one of his jokes and he tweeted me back. It's now in my favorites column. I got tweeted by Steve Martin. I haven't had anything that cool in a while. The book is a sign of some sort, now i just have to read it, stay present and wait for the answer to why it's here, and who in Maine thought of me enough to send it.
Mike is working a different shift, so I am trying to figure out how to run my day differently so I can be with him. It's a good thing I am trying to be mute, or the amount of griping at the change would just get obnoxious.
So, change, flea baths, Maine and books. That has been my day. I keep waiting for all my other senses to heighten since I am not talking. So far I haven't noticed anything I am acutely aware of, except when I see things repeatedly I actually pay attention. Oh, and my foot stays flat on the floor where it belongs instead of taking residence in my mouth.