Hello, my name is Dan.
And other stories which I shouldn’t laugh about, but do.
When it comes down to it, there’s not much funny about the situation. I suffered a stroke after an internal carotid artery dissection.
But, I was one of the lucky ones. Surgery could fix me.
Recently, I was thinking about the fact that when I woke up from surgery, 28 short weeks ago, the only word I that could speak was “one”.
“Stacie, what is your husband’s name?”. Me, “One”.
“Stacie, what do you want for lunch?”. Me, “One”.
You get the picture.
It’s funny to me now and we have loads of comic relief around the house. “Friso, did you put the laundry in the hamper?” I ask. “One!” shouts Friso.
I don’t know how else, besides humour, to get thru these days.
It’s only funny, because I am doing the work.
So, I can laugh with you at some of the strokey-speech-blunders I’ve made in the last 28 weeks.
On the first day of school we all rocked up, putting our best foot forward and ready for it! I was particularly eager to meet the new Head of School as he was replacing a legend. I made a beeline towards him and he eagerly accepted me by holding out his hand, giving me the standard “Hello, my name is Dan”.
I promptly accepted his greeting by proudly announcing that I was Dan too!
I was soooo embarrassed by my stroke-blunder that I simply could not recover. I made a bunch of silly comments, all under my breath, just willing the name Stacie to come to me. But, it never did!
So, I did what any woman in my situation would do. I acted supremely justified, as if I was totally in the right, because of course my name is Dan. And why are you staring at me like that? Are you waiting for something?
I turned on my heel and scurried away, leaving Johan in the dust of my faux pas.
Now, if you are close to me, I don’t have any problems remembering your name. My kids all come when I shout their names. Friso is Boy Dog. Lulu is Girl Dog. And, Cleo… well she comes to just about anything, as a proper third child should do.
Be that as it may, Johan is fine with his moniker. Wait a minute, nowadays I call everyone by his pet name. If you don’t mind me calling you hon, well, we’ll get along just fine.
In all honestly, the same goes for my family, too. I don’t always get their (made-up) names correct.
Just the other day, I was walking with my three, holding the girls’ hands as we moseyed along. I turned to Lulu, scaring the living daylights out of her, and asked, “Is that guy still following us”?
I meant Friso, of course.
Names are not my strong suit at the moment. Weirdly, neither are adjectives.
Let me paint this picture… I was sitting, enjoying a lazy morning at Starbucks with Cleo, when our attention was grabbed by two friendly dogs at the table next to us. We enjoyed their company and, when they were leaving, Cleo asked me which of the two was my favourite. I promptly answered her with, “The green dog”. What?
Or body parts.
When serving my kids supper I offered my son a fossil.
I meant a chicken wing.
You see, there are a couple different things working (or not working!) here.
For starters, I suffer from nonfluent aphasia as a result from the damage inflicted on my brain. That’s why I take soooo long to find my words.
You might ask yourself, why doesn't this affect her ability to write? It seems like the old Stacie? Well, I could (and probably will!) answer that question another time, but let’s suffice to say that it takes me a lonnnng time.
This is also why names just escape me!
Look, it took me bloody forever to name our three children. And I like their names! So, it’s simply frustrating to say the least. I mean, Boy Dog is proving to be effective, but...
I’m also suffering from verbal paraphasias. Now this is where we can all snicker, just a little bit.
Although paraphasia is not associated with nonfluent aphasia, I guess I’m lucky enough to have these hilarious symptoms of fluent aphasia.
You see, on a subconscious level my brain is frantically searching in my dictionary to complete the idea that I liked the black dog. She just takes the first thought and runs with it, which leaves me standing here, liking the supposed green dog.
Or fossils.
Or favicons… oh, I didn’t tell you that story, did I?
All of this reminds of the chap that Johan and I fondly call “What’s his name again?”. And I have to giggle every time I think of the story.
We were invited to a friends house for lunch, many years ago. It was about half way thru when the husband asked me (on the q.t., of course), “What’s his name, again?”, in reference to Johan. At the time, I was shocked!
And he didn’t stop there. After the lunch, “What’s his name, again?” When we were saying our goodbyes, “What’s his name, again?”
I reckon, if we ever see those friends again, we’ll have a right ‘ole time. Me shouting for Boy Dog and “What’s his name again” sounding like a broken record, repeatedly asking my husband’s name.
But seriously, who can remember?
me and instagram, we’re old friends…
