I Still Remember

Hi All!

It is Thursday! I am tired from being out until nearly 11:00 last night (that darn class!) and I have a bit of a headache (probably because I didn't get enough sleep?!?). Mom is wondering why I am not feeling as happy as I felt last Thursday. I can't figure it out either!

Oh well! I am just pleased to have survived another class with little harm and with some pleasant interaction with my friends. That is one reason I really keep going to the class that I don't enjoy. My friends are there and I get to see them!

In addition to my friends who are actually taking the same class as me, I also have friends in the lab - Deaf friends who have worked with me for the past two and a half years as I struggled to learn the language. They are wonderful people and I miss seeing them more often. When I had class twice a week I would see them more but this once a week deal makes it difficult!

Anyway. I was looking at pictures from my old computer and found these.

This is my Grandpa Denny.


















This picture was taken when Grandpa wasn't as healthy as he once was. He was probably in his 80's in this picture. This isn't how I remember Grandpa Denny.

I remember Grandpa in his white t-shirt and his overalls just coming in from milking the cows and working in the barn. He would take off his work boots and wash up in the garage where there was a sink for just that purpose. Then he would come into the big, warm kitchen smelling like hay and manure (if you were raised in the country it isn't that bad of a smell!). Grandpa would sit in the rocker in the kitchen and chat with everyone before heading downstairs to take a shower before supper.

I loved seeing Grandpa like that. He always seemed so big and strong. He was a hard worker and even as a small child I was proud of that. Seeing him in the barn with the cows or on a tractor in the fields made me feel happy. He was a good, decent, hard-working man.

Grandpa might not have been the most educated person in the world but, to me, he was one of the smartest people in the world. I love him and miss him.

This is my Grandma Frank.

I think I got a lot of my ornery personality from Grandma Frank. She was an amazing woman. Grandma lived on the farm my father was raised on and loved those country roads. She was a speed demon in her car and I always believed that was because she drove the ambulance for the volunteer squad for a number of years. Grandma was also involved in EVERYTHING! She knew everyone and everything that was going on. Grandma enjoyed her gossip.

Grandma lived to be 95 years old and her mind was sharp pretty much to the end. One of my favorite memories of Grandma is when I first told her about meeting Hubby. My parents were living out of the country and so Grandma decided that she should ask all the questions a mother should ask her daughter about a man she met. Let me tell you, some of the questions were hilarious! The conversation ended with both of us laughing because Grandma asked if Hubby was an alcoholic kleptomaniac!

Grandma always had her own opinion of things and didn't do anything she didn't want to do. She was a strong woman and I miss her.

Trisha

Voice Update: Doing surprisingly well! In fact, Susan told me yesterday (on the phone) that my voice sounded excellent. What a compliment! Of course class got my neck and back all tight so I have to work on relaxing that again. *sigh*

The Great Hair Debate

Hi All!

Yesterday was a busy but fun day for me. I went to the DAC (the Deaf Action Center for those of you who are new here) and spent time chatting with the seniors there. They are such interesting people and it is a good way for me to practice my ASL skills.

I also spent some time talking to the DAC's interpreter coordinator about finding some interpreters that I can watch for a class assignment. It was interesting talking to her about what she does. While I was talking with her, one of her interpreters came in and I got a chance to chat with her as well.

When I was done there, I was leaving the complex when the DAC bus came in with the seniors who had gone to Kroger's shopping. I got to see them all again! One of my friends, a lovely lady, invited me to see her apartment. We went and chatted for a while before I had to go home. It was a good day at the DAC!

After the DAC it was haircut time.

Now, ya'll haven't known me that long but, my hair has always been a point of lots of discussion in my family. My mother and I have different kinds of hair - mine is THICK and hers is fine. Because of this difference, Mom likes "playing" with my hair - seeing it cut in different styles. My hair grows rather quickly so . . . it isn't too tough to get my hair into different styles in a pretty short time frame.

However, due to the thickness of my hair and my total lack of desire to "mess" with my hair (that means curling irons, hair product, etc.), my hairstyles need to be simple to take care of. Also, the thickness can lead to problems.

For example, it takes FOREVER for my hair to dry when it is longer. My arms can't stand holding a blow-dryer long enough (we are talking close to half an hour or more) to get everything dry. Also, my hair acts like an insulator on my neck when it is long and traps heat in - lots of heat. Imaging walking around in the 100 degree Texas weather with a rug on your neck and that is pretty much what it feels like!

Anyway - despite all my "issues" with my hair . . . I like to "shake things up" and change hairstyles frequently. Currently, I am in the "let it grow" mode. Since my hair was VERY short - this will take me through a variety of styles in the next several months.

I can't decide how I like my hair best. So - I thought I would show you some pictures and maybe you could help me out. What hairstyle do you like best?

Trisha

Voice Update: Still doing really well. I even threw in a few massages yesterday while at stop lights. Not having to talk for most of the day didn't hurt either!

What To Do? What To Do?

Hi All!

In the insanity that is my mind, much has been happening lately. As you know, I am preparing to go to the NSDA National Symposium this weekend and this means getting a presentation about podcasting ready to go. Also, I am in the midst of project central for my ASL classes. One project is pretty much complete - that is the Americans with Disabilities presentation. Another project . . . well, let's just say that it is moving a bit lethargically.

What might that project be, you ask? Well, it is taking a book and converting it into an ASL play. This task has many inherent problems since there are four people working together to complete the task. First, all four people must agree upon a book to convert. Next, the four people must read the book so that they know what it is about. Then, the four people must meet and hash out a script for the play. Finally, the four people must meet and rehearse the play prior to presenting it in class.

Doesn't that sound like fun? At least we have agreed upon a book - Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. I am positive that it will make for an interesting play once we get to that point. Currently, I am only on the third chapter. Oh well - it will make good airplane reading!

Anyway - back to the mess that is my brain. One thing that has been floating around in there for quite a while is the need to figure out just what in the world I will be doing with the rest of my life.

In case you don't know, or have forgotten, I used to teach elementary school. My "dream job," which I spent five and a half years doing, was teaching fifth graders in a magnet program for highly gifted students. I loved that job. Unfortunately, I was required to quit teaching because of the onset of Abductor Spasmodic Dysphonia. After all, it is tough to teach when you have no voice!

I really enjoy teaching - all levels and all ages. It really feels right to me when I am teaching someone something. I am good at teaching and have a gift to help people learn so . . . I would like to continue teaching.

However, my voice is pretty "fragile" and really can't handle talking all day long - which is something that is required when teaching. Also, listening to my friends who are still teaching . . . the paperwork and the "baloney" which teachers must endure is becoming ever greater each year. I could really do without all of that hassle!

Add to the fray the fact that I am taking American Sign Language and really, really enjoy it. In my brain all of this is mixing and mixing . . . and mixing. Maybe I could teach Deaf children? I could also continue classes and become an ASL interpreter but . . . that isn't where my heart is leading.

The only thing about becoming a teacher of the Deaf is that it would require that I get ANOTHER Master's degree. My mind rebels quite loudly at the thought of spending more time in classrooms learning more stuff (which I probably already know anyway) and spending more money which I am not earning.

When I think about it . . . a sense of dread looms up from my toes and overtakes my chest making it slightly difficult to breath freely.

What to do? What to do?

Trisha

Voice Update: Speech today! I am sure that Susan will work ALL of the crunch out of my throat as she prepares me for my presentation on Friday. Doesn't that sound like fun? I wonder how long my neck will be sore!

Old Pictures

Hi All!

Even though it is a bit "geeky," I have to admit that I adore history! Ancient history, modern history. Whatever. If it is history, I can't get enough! One of my all-time favorite kinds of history is family history.

Knowing what my relatives were like "way back when" is fascinating to me. I can spend hours imagining what life was like for my relatives; the hardships and joys they faced, how they dealt with new technology, what they would think of the world we live in today.

Part of my fascination with history is a love of old pictures. Pictures of my relatives hold a particular fascination for me but, any old picture will draw my interest. They always seem to have a story to tell and I wish I knew what it was!

Here are some pictures from my family.

My Grandma Frank had four children - all boys! Here are the oldest three: (from left to right) my Uncle Bob, my dad, my Uncle Ken. Just look at their faces. Can you imagine what it was like for my grandma to deal with these little rapscallions? I know these people all grown up - and they are pretty quirky - imagining them as little kids just tickles me.

This picture - as far as anyone can tell me - includes my great-grandfather. Where he might be in this picture is a mystery but I still love the picture.

Here are my great-grandparents, my grandma's parents. My great-grandfather was an officer in the army drafted for the Spanish-American War. Don't they look fun? Those hats!

There are a lot of old pictures in my grandmother's house which I hope to inherit some day. Is that weird? Wanting to inherit old pictures? They just make me feel connected to something bigger than myself - history.

Trisha

Voice Update: Still doing really well. Massage, massage, massage!

Why Do You Do It?

Hi All!

What were you thinking when you started writing (or reading) blogs? Did you want to change the world? Did you want to write literary masterpieces? Did you want to find the answer to all the problems in the world

A conversation I had recently with a woman I will call "Goetta Girl" started me thinking about blogs and their purposes. GG told me that she had started a blog but hadn't updated it in a long time because she wasn't an expert on anything. She couldn't blog because she wasn't an expert! Huh? I blog all the time, practically every day, and I certainly am NOT an expert on much, if anything.

Do you have to be an expert to blog? Do people who read your blog actually think you are an expert? If you do and they do . . . I am in BIG trouble around here!

My blog began as a way for me to express myself at a time when I quite literally couldn't do it in any other way. My voice wasn't very audible even though I was beginning to get a "real" voice again. Talking on the phone wasn't really an option because SD had robbed me of volume and most people didn't have the patience to actually listen to what I was saying so they could hear me.

There was never an intent to be an expert on my blog even though I did intend to spread information about Spasmodic Dysphonia to different people. I only write about what I know in my life and experiences. I write to express myself, to feel validated as a member of the communicating world, to vent. Basically, I just write to write.

As for reading blogs . . . I don't choose the blogs I read regularly because of their expert opinions or their literary quality - even though there are some blogs which show both characteristics frequently - I choose them because I like them. For some reason, I just plain like the blog. There is a connection there somewhere. There is enjoyment.

Why do you read and/or write blogs? I am curious!

Trisha

Voice Update: Still have that crunchy thing going on. It normally won't go away until Susan gets working on my neck and reaches those spots I just can't reach. So - until next Wednesday, I guess I will be crunchy! Massage and exercise. Massage and exercise! Massage and exercise!!!

Fish Funeral Friday

Hi All!

Hubby has a fish tank. He originally got it because of me. As part of the fifth grade curriculum, the students worked with various "live materials" provided by the district live materials lab. The material included plants, snails, pill bugs, and . . . gold fish. The live materials lab delivered the appropriate number of gold fish to your school and the students did the experiments (nothing inhumane - more along the lines of observation). After the experiments were complete, the lab would NOT take the fish back, the idea was to give the fish away to students.

This worked for most of the years that I had to run the fish experiments. In fact, it worked for all except one year. The year of the inexplicable dying goldfish who wouldn't die.

Confused? So was I!

Here is the deal. This particular year, I got the goldfish and had them in a little tank in my room. Everything was great. Except that the next morning over half of them were floaters. Not a pretty site to see when you first enter your classroom. I took care of the floaters and made an emergency call to the live materials guy to get some more fish so I would have enough for the experiment.

The new fish came, and about two-thirds of them died by the next day. Now, you should know that before the arrival of the darn fish I very carefully prepared the water according to directions from the live materials guy. I put in drops to rid the water of excess chlorine. I allowed the water to sit for about 48 hours to ensure the drops had enough time to work. I ran PH tests on the water to ensure that it was suitable for fish life. The live materials guy even checked the water before handing over the fish (the second time - he assumed I screwed up the first time so this time he was WAY more cautious before handing over the fish!). Everything was PERFECT!

And the fish still died. In droves. The second time, they managed to hold on until about noon so they could die in the presence of about 26 fifth graders. Nice. The students were NOT too happy about so many floating fish. I mean, it looked like a fish massacre in that darn tank!

The students began calling me "the fish killer" even though I did nothing to the little things! Then the class began to theorize about just why the fish would die after I had taken all the proper precautions - which they had seen me do with their own little, fifth grade eyes. The things these kids came up with!

By the end of the day, they had basically come to the conclusion that the fish had to have some kind of a virus and that the ones who had managed to hold on for the day were also doomed to be floating soon.

We did the experiment on the few live fish we had left and then . . . I tried to get rid of them. No one from my class would take any! They were convinced there was something wrong with the fish and didn't want to take them just to watch them die. So - the fish remained in the tank on a table by my desk.

There were about 18 fish who survived and those things just kept surviving. For about three weeks! I would clean the water and feed them and prepare chlorine-free water for them. It was a pain! All this time I was trying to find ANYONE to take the fish!

The end of the school year drew nearer and I still had 18 goldfish swimming in the tank and NO takers. I was begging! I even began asking slight acquaintances and strangers in the Wal Mart fish aisle if they would like some free gold fish. Nothing!

At this time, Hubby and I didn't own a fish tank. As the prospect for the dispersal of the fish grew dimmer and dimmer I began talking to Hubby about what I was going to do. I could NOT just flush perfectly healthy (maybe) fish because no one wanted them so the only other option . . . to buy a fish tank and bring the things home!

On the last day of school one of my students did agree to take about 6 of the fish so only 12 made the journey to my house and to the new fish tank Hubby and purchased and put together for them. It was lovely - it had nice blue rocks, air filters, and fake plants. A big upgrade from the plain tank they were living in at school. Over the weekend, a friend from church agreed to take another 6 from me for his fish tanks. Yeah! I was down to six.

Six goldfish who WOULD NOT DIE. That is right. These darn fish just kept living and pooping (an incredible amount if you ask me!) and living and living and pooping and living. Oh - they also grew. One of the darn things grew to about five inches long! He was a beast!

These goldfish - who the students wouldn't take because they would surely die quickly - lived for a good two or three years in our fish tank. Hubby began grumbling about having to clean the tank so often (did you know that goldfish are dirty fish compared to other fish? Me either! I learned quickly.). We continued to ask people if they would like goldfish. No takers.

Finally, Hubby had had enough. He said that the gold fish HAD to go. But, just where would we take them? I refused to flush them (and I didn't think the 5 inch one would flush anyway!). I got in touch with the live materials guy from school (who, by the way, continued to refuse to take the fish back!) and asked about options. After many days of back and forth, we decided that releasing them in a pond at the district's "land lab" would be a good option. The pond was deep enough that the fish might survive the winter (which, in Texas isn't really too cold) and they could spend the rest of their lives in fishy freedom.

Well, Hubby and I took the little buggers to the pond and set them free. It was a little unnerving to see the Heron waiting on the distant shore for a nice snack but . . . I knew we had to get rid of the fish.

That was a couple of years ago and since then Hubby has had different tropical fish. I am not allowed to get attached to the fish (I named the goldfish and was really sad when we had to "free" them!). However, I still don't like to see them die.

This morning - right before I wrote this - I had to perform a fish funeral. Yes, one of Hubby's fish 320.... (the 320 is a note from Skor who just tried to jump on the desk!) was dead when I walked in the room and I had to scoop him out and send him to the great toilet in the sky.

Poor fishy!

Trisha

Voice Update: Still doing good. I have been doing my new exercises pretty faithfully. I have one set down and can now do them in the car - which must look interesting to people driving by! I need to do a massage session here in a bit and I want to get out my "thumper" massager to try to loosed up some of my neck muscles which are telling me I slept funny.

Storytime

Hi All!

Welcome to "In My Dreams . . ." Story time! Come on in and make yourself comfortable. There is plenty of room. There are some spots down front. Don't be shy! Okay! Is that everyone? All comfortable? Good! Let's start today's story.

Today's story is called "The Toilet Paper Caper."

When I first graduated from college and began my teaching career, I could only find jobs substituting in different districts so I was really, really hurting for money. Luckily, my parents allowed me to move back in with them while I went through this stage of my career. It worked out pretty well.

However, after about a year, my parents moved . . . to Saudi Arabia! That is right, they left the country! My dad told everyone he could prior to the move that they were going because I wouldn't leave their house. In actuality, they went to Saudi to teach at the Saudia Airlines School in Jeddah. Mom taught music to elementary kiddos and Dad was the Principal of the upper school. They had been wanting to teach overseas for several years and finally got the opportunity so they took it.

They left me in their house, rent free! Great, huh? All I had to do was take care of the house and yard and pay the bills (with their money if they were their bills). Simple. Well, factor in the acre of land and the large amount of trees which have MILLIONS of leave. Also consider that Mom is a avid gardener and had several flowerbeds. That makes things a bit more complicated.

Still, it was a good deal for me - and for them.

During this time I enjoyed shopping at odd hours, usually later in the evening, when there were few customers and I could finish quickly and get out of there.

Well, one evening, probably between 10:00 and 11:00 P.M. I went to the grocery store. There was only one other customer in the store, a man who looked well dressed and seemed nice. We were on the opposite side of the store most of the time so we never interacted too much. I think I said "hi" when we passed once. That was about it.

Anyway, I had pretty much finished my shopping when I remembered that I needed toilet paper. I headed to the toilet paper aisle and debated over which size to get - the four pack or the huge, honkin' twelve pack. Knowing that I hated running out of toilet paper, I chose the huge pack of twelve. Into my cart the enormous pack went and I headed off to check out.

The cashier, bag boy, and I chatted while I was checked out. They were bored almost stiff because there wasn't much to do at that time of night. Little did we all know but, the evening was about to get much more interesting!

As I walked away from the cashier, I noticed that the other customer, the man, was also finished paying for his items and was headed to the door too. This was a slight problem because two people, one with a cart full of goodies (me) and one carrying two bags (him) couldn't fit through the door at the same time. I decided to wait until he went out so I stopped my cart and motioned him on. He smiled his thanks and headed out the door. His path took him right past my cart with my big pack of toilet paper stuck right on top of everything.

Imagine my shock when this man suddenly grabbed my toilet paper and took off out the door!

The bag boy, after a moment's hesitation (probably due to disbelief) ran out after the man but couldn't catch up with him. The manager, who had witnessed the entire event, came up and asked if the man had really stolen my toilet paper. Soon, all of the workers in the place were gathered around me talking about my stolen toilet paper. How embarrassing!

After a little bit, the store manager sent the bag boy to get me a new pack of toilet paper and I went home, still a bit dazed. I couldn't figure out why the man had stolen my toilet paper when he could have just gotten his own! Weird!

From that time on, for several months, each time I went grocery shopping, cashiers asked me if I was the "toilet paper woman." Charming name, isn't it? Even people who hadn't been there that night had heard the bizarre tale of the stolen toilet paper. I could literally hear the buzz of whispers whenever I entered the store. So good for the self esteem, don't you think?

Many people, upon hearing this story doubt its authenticity but, I ask you - how could someone make this stuff up?

Yes, this is a totally true story. It is only one example of why I honestly believe that Murphy from Murphy's Law has to be in my family tree!

Okay! That is it for story time today! I hope you enjoyed it and will come back for our next story time. Feel free to browse around the blog before leaving.

Trisha

Voice Update: Speech today! I will let you know how it went tomorrow!

Cheesecake Factory

The Clematis I planted last year.

The new flowerbed.

Hi All!

I am going to the Cheese Cake Factory for dinner! Yeah! If you have never eaten at a Cheesecake Factory (Is that two or three words anyway??), you are really missing out! It is a chain with super food and heavenly cheesecake! My personal favorite is the pumpkin but, they only carry that flavor around Thanksgiving so I don't get it too often. In fact, the last time I went to the restaurant around Thanksgiving (it was a week after the holiday) they were OUT of the pumpkin!!! The menu said they carried it until the beginning of the year - they lied! Oh well - I forgive them because the peanut butter truffle cheesecake is good too.

My anger from yesterday - which was totally not like me - is pretty much gone. It helped that I worked on a new flowerbed pretty much all afternoon. Our soil is made up primarily of clay so it is tough to dig and then has to be mixed with soil to make things grow. That took a lot of energy and helped with whatever frustrations I was feeling. By the time my husband came home, I felt much better. It also helped that he made dinner (stuffed shells, green beans, and french bread baked with the shells) and suggested Cheesecake Factory for tonight! I have a wonderful husband -have I mentioned that?

When I was going through the initial stages of SD - having absolutely no voice and not knowing why, going to all of the doctors and therapists and having cameras threaded down my nose, all of that FUN stuff - I was a little nervous about how my hubby would react. After all, he married a woman who LOVED to talk and who was very social. In fact, when we went to HIS work events, I was the one who did most of the talking - not him! I did a fair share of public speaking and loved meeting new people. Then, suddenly, I couldn't do any of that. I couldn't talk at all, let alone in social situations which were a bit noisy! I couldn't talk on the phone at all.

My husband found himself thrust into the position of the family spokesman. He had to do all of the talking - from ordering for me in restaurants to making doctor's appointments on the phone. For a man who is pretty shy - this had to have been terrifying and difficult. This was NOT what he "signed on for" when he married me!

While he stepped up very admirably and even came out of his shell a bit, he wasn't always too happy about things. One night when we were in bed - one of the few places we could really talk because we were close together and it was quite - he told me how angry he was that I was changing our life. I was devastated! I was sure he would leave me.

Luckily, he didn't and he has adjusted fairly well to the whole "non-talking wife" issue. He has heard his share of the "You have what every man wishes for - a silent wife." jokes and has been frustrated with trying to talk to me in Wal Mart - which is very noisy! He has gotten used to me wearing a microphone around and doing all kinds of weird sounding vocal exercises. Lately, he has even accepted the fact that this is an incurable disorder and that I will struggle with it for the rest of my life.

All of this on top of the fact that he cleans and cooks (not ALL the time on the cooking but he does cook two times a week when I am at class) and takes care of the cats and takes care of me! I love my husband and thank God everyday that I have him.

Now if he would clean up the rest of the garage . . .

Trisha

History - Part Three!

Hi All!

Time for the third installment of my history. After this we can get on to more current stuff! Won't that be fun?

Okay - in the last post I explained about how I learned to speak on the inhale. The doctor who gives me my Botox shots was very impressed with my "talent." He invited all of his interns and other doctors in to witness my inhalation voicing! What fun - to be the "stage show" in a doctor's office!

Oh Well! As I said, my therapist got tough with me and demanded that I only talk on the exhale. After a couple very frustrating weeks where my husband could hardly hear me (it did mean that he had to sit much closer to me while we watched TV though!), things with my voice started to click. Soon I could say entire sentences on the exhale One of my very first complete sentences on the exhale was - "I hate everybody and everything - except for you." The "you" is my husband who was listening to me talk at the time! As you can tell from that lovely comment - it was a rough road!

With MUCH continued practice, I am now able to speak totally on the exhale. Most of the time I sound pretty much normal with the exception of my soft volume - I still can not yell or scream. Once in a while my voice starts "breaking up" and I have problems voicing words beginning with w, h, and p. That is when my therapist tells me to get much softer and slower. I have a problem with the slow part - I mean, I LOVE to talk and after not being able to do it for so long, I have a LOT of time to make up!

If you would like to hear samples of my voice, check out my podcasts. The earlier posts are with me speaking on the inhale and the more current ones are on the exhale. Learning to Live With SD.

When I am speaking one-to-one I am good. When I need to talk in a small group or in a noisy environment I use my Spokeman microphone. It is a personal amplification system which is very small and portable (I wear the amplifier on my arm like a MP3 player even though it is a bit bigger than a player.) and allows me to be heard without "pushing" and stressing my voice. I also have a phone which amplifies the outgoing voice and it really cuts down on my stress about being loud enough to be heard by the other person. I love my Spokeman and my phone! Once I figure out the entire picture thing I will put a picture of my microphone system and my phone on this blog for you to see.

Have a great day!
Trisha

Part Two of my history

Hi All!

I got back from the doctor's a bit earlier than I expected so I have some time to Blog. It really is like an addiction!

Let's see - I told you about medical disability . . . okay. I stopped teaching in January of 2007 and started really concentrating on my speech therapy. I became a therapy fanatic. I had a list of exercises (breathing, inhale sounds, etc.) from my therapist and instructions to do them four times at the least and once an hour optimally. I went out and bought myself a timer. That timer was set to 50 minutes and each time it went off - so did I! I ran through my list of exercises and then reset that timer. Sometimes it seemed like that darn thing ran my life! I would stop in the middle of almost anything (I didn't set it after seven in the evening to give myself a break!) and do my exercises.

My therapist was very happy with my progress. Now I was able to do some simple words speaking on the inhale - while breathing in. From there we went to phrases and within a few months I could literally talk on the inhale. It took me a little more time and made my mouth extremely dry all the time but . . . I could talk! During this time my speech therapist and I continued to try the exhale (or "normal" voice) with no sucess. We agreed that maybe the inhale voice would be all that I would ever have so I kept practicing to increase my endurance. I would read outloud at least two to three hours a day and kept that timer going to remind me when to do the vocal exercises.

About five months ago I noticed something weird happening while I was reading outloud. Every once in a while, a word would "pop" out on the exhale. Popping is literally what it felt like. I would be going along on the inhale and then - pop! - a word would come out "normally!" At first it was very unpredictable and I couldn't do it on demand. However, it became more and more frequent as time went on.

Then I let my speech therapist know that words were popping. She decided that I should try to talk only on the exhale - something I hadn't done for a long, long time. I was very frustrated! Whenever I tried talking on the exhale things came out in a whispery voice which seemed to crack and fade in and out. What in the world was my therapist making me do? I sounded much better on the inhale and people could actually hear me! Some of them DID think I was mentally challenged but . . . .

That's all I have time for now.
Trisha

The Story So Far!

Hi All!

Here it is -my second post on my new blog! I feel like a kid with a new toy! I was awake last night (not totally because of excitement over the new blog) thinking about what kinds of things I can write here! I can write all kinds of things!

Maybe to start I should tell you a little bit more about myself and how SD became an integral part of my life.

Let's see. . . .

I grew up in Ohio and got married to a wonderful man who then took a voluntary transfer to Texas. I enjoy Texas most of the time but the summers are ridiculous! I mean I think 90 degrees is plenty warm - why go into the hundreds? That is just nuts! And even nuttier - there are actually people here who LIKE the hot temperatures! I wonder if there is a greater concentration of psychologists in Texas than in other states. I will have to look into that!

Anyway - here I am. I am a teacher by profession and vocation. I have taught a total of 15 years and have enjoyed pretty much every year even though I have had my fair share of crazy supervisors! I love working with elementary age students because it is fun to see them learn and grow. My last assignment - which was my DREAM job - was teaching highly gifted fifth graders. These kiddos had IQ's of 140 or above so they really kept me on my toes. It was a super job - hard but way worth it! This job really suited me and my personality and I have no intentions of leaving for a while.

THEN - I suddenly lost my voice. It started like the "beginning of the year voice" that all teachers get. They are not used to talking all day and their voice gets overworked and sounds a bit raspy. Normal. However, my voice went from raspy to whispery (I still wasn't too concerned because this also happens to teachers). Then, my voice just stopped - and I mean stopped. I couldn't talk AT ALL! Of course I pushed myself to try to continue talking enough to keep my class going. I also became very creative in ways to teach - the computer was a God send. I learned some basic sign language through books to communicate with the entire class when I couldn't whisper in someone's ear - which was the only voice I could muster up at all.

During this time I was on anti-anxiety meds from the previous year when my principal was a psycho and I began having anxiety attacks. My primary care physician was certain that once I was no longer stressed, my voice would return. No such luck! I taught for about three and a half months with basically no voice whatsoever. This worked but was very stressful. I had my husband record the spelling lists to play for the spelling test. I had other teachers record things which had to be said out loud to the class. I typed hundreds of thousands of pages of text on the computer to project on the screen for the students to read as though it was me talking. The kids didn't mind - they seemed to think it was like a new challenge. They did pretty well with the whole system. It was me who was freaking out.

I went to an ENT and was told that there was no damage to my vocal chords and little else. He sent me to a speech therapist who became my salvation. Susan, the therapist, has a lot of experience with SD patients and, after a couple sessions, she became positive that I had ABSD. We worked to relax the muscles around my larnyx which were basically frozen from months of me trying to force myself to talk. Then we went into exercises to correct my breathing - also messed up from forcing myself. Soon, I decided to take a leave of absence from my job to concentrate on therapy. I was confident that a coupld of months would make all of the difference and I would soon be back better than ever.

WRONG! The couple of months turned into the rest of the school year and then into temporary medical disability and then I had to resign my position with the district because all of the leaves had run out. From my dream job to no job in a year. Not good!

I guess I should give you a break and quit typing for a while. Tomorrow I will continue the saga . . .

Have a super day!

Trisha