Monday, July 29, 2019

Priorities

Stalking through urban jungle 
Slipping under couches, creeping up the stairs 
Little leopard freckled from nose to tail 
Prepares to pounce on unsuspecting 
Toes, catnip mice, laser lights 
Clearing off cluttered counters 
For higher priorities 
Curled up in sunlit patches 
Dainty mayhem at rest


Written for dVerse.



Saturday, July 27, 2019

Word Allergy

I parked my car and took a deep breath. How bad could a hiking club be? We'd look at plants and identify trees, see some birds, take pictures, and get to the top of a mountain together. It would be fun. Still I was nervous when I approached the guide and the usual questions began.

"Caroline, right?" He checked my name off a list. "And what word are you allergic to?" He asked. I pulled out the medical card case and averted my eyes while he flipped it open. Touching the word directly makes my fingers itch. Looking at it makes my eyes smart and eventually results in full on tears and a stuffed nose, like I was cutting an onion. Hearing it starts a slow build up of reactions until I can't breathe. Saying it myself sends me straight into anaphylactic shock. He read the card and then the questions start.

"Can I say H2O? No? What about-"

"Just read the card," I beg. "It's all right there."

Hearing H2O isn't as bad as the actual word, but it still leaves my ears ringing. Why are people so possessed with the idea that they have to verbally ask for every single possible synonym? One or two, I can handle, annoying as it is. But a whole diluge of synonyms can still put me in the hospital. Acceptable words are listed on the card. All they have to do is read it. I can say it in French, l'eau, but not in Spanish. Ocean, sea, tears are okay. My doctor says it's because the salt in them mitigates the idea of the actual word. But if it's a a form of the word without salt? Not happening. I have to be careful with pool. I can say it, but it makes my tongue fuzzy. I try to save it for if I'm having a really hard time communicating and the other person's being dense. 

Then he started on the next set of questions and I tried to hold my frustration in. It's not his fault all the questions people ask are the same. "But you can drink it right? It's everywhere; it's not like you can avoid it. Are you sure it's a real allergy?"

Yes I can drink it. It's a word allergy, not a food allergy. No, I can't avoid it; but it puts a lot of limits on what I can do. Yes it's real and not in my head. Once when I was eight, my uncle yelled it at me over and over again, until my ears rang so hard they bled and I fainted because I couldn't breathe. I woke up in the hospital and my parents never spoke to that uncle again. 

"How do you manage? Don't you ever do anything fun?"

I manage the way everyone with word allergies does. I wear earplugs or headphones and carry my medical cards at all times. Also a white board, so that new people can write to me, until I decide it's safe to take the headphones off. I never take them off in crowded public places; there's too much risk. Texting is a lifesaver. Even if someone forgets and uses the word, it's not as bad as hearing it. I rarely take calls. I work remotely, which also helps.

"But don't you get lonely?"

Well, that's why I'm here. I  enjoy nature and a hiking club seemed like a good way to get outside and meet new friends. He hands the card case back. "Great to have you on board. Before we start up the trail be sure to grab a water bottle."



Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Sunken


Photo by David Boca on Unsplash


Beneath the lapping waves
Where a golden sun makes its grave
In indigo and murky violet hue
Rise eerie forgotten views
Primordial remains steeped in brine
Here a column, there a shrine
Stone faces peering out from the past
Reminding us that nothing lasts



Written for dVerse.