I was too disturbed to write this yesterday, having had one more unfortunate incident concerning my hearing, or rather lack of.
A guy I recently worked with decided to write an email telling me how I should feel and act in regards to my hearing loss.
Let me say, the arrogance of this left me speechless along with properly pissed. It wasn’t a kind missive either, packed with contempt and judgment by someone who I’ve only been extremely kind to.
I truly didn’t see it coming either, like a sniper shooting.
You see, no one ever thinks it could ever happen to them. I certainly didn’t.
I never expected to be without one of my chief senses in the last stage of my life.
I was upset feeling assaulted once again by someone I know and felt comfortable with. Now of course I won’t, like when you get bitten by a dog, you’re sadly never relaxed in its presence again.
So I licked my wounds all weekend waking up Monday deciding, that’s enough Susannah, press on best you can.
Right foot, left foot…and for the record, that’s exactly what I do, even if it doesn’t look that way to someone else.
After coffee I strolled down Lex to visit Rosie the cat like I do every morning. I see a tall, teenage kid standing on Rosie’s corner.
I watched Rosie run to him like an old friend as he crouched down to pet her, whispering in her furry ear.
Get out your hankies.
This gentle, young man was clearly mentally challenged… walking, talking at half throttle making me tear up as I watched him sweetly nuzzle Rosie.
It was as though they had their own language, and they did…it’s called acceptance.
I don’t care for the term mentally retarded, but that’s what we had here, and it didn’t just occur either. This fella has lived with his disability from day 1.
It’s what I needed to see…someone who has been fiercely tested his whole life over something he has no control over.
How many times did someone lose patience with him hurling an insult, making fun of his limitations or just giving unsolicited advice that did nothing but make matters worse. Did he too throw himself across his bed weeping wanting to jump out the window so he wouldn’t hurt anymore?
How often has he felt alone and isolated apart from the rest of the world? And trust me, this is how you feel when you’re missing your parts.
I didn’t want him to see me cry because he certainly doesn’t feel sorry for himself.
But I walked home feeling blessed I still have eyes to see with, and a mind lucid enough to be reminded, there are others who struggle.
I’m not alone.