The Many Joys of Being disabled: The Loss of Eloquence.

 One of my daughter's first words was ‘customer service’. She was tiny (in the toddler

seat of the trolley) and said this and pointed as we walked past the desk at a local

supermarket.

My family finds this very funny because it was obviously a word she’d heard often from me

and it is a good insight into my own personality and the how and why I ended up as a lawyer.

Having my – and my former client’s - voices heard was always incredibly important to me.

So when I was in the hospital after my brain haemorrhage and the speech therapist told me

that my voice had changed, it wouldn't improve and this was something I would just have to

get used to, let’s just say, I wasn’t best pleased.

Imagine if your voice changed overnight. How would you react?

It was awful for me. For a long time I was too embarrassed to even make basic phone calls. 

I couldn't even phone the school reception in case they didn't understand me. I couldn’t –

and still can't phone my elderly grandparents (whom I used to phone weekly) because they

couldn’t understand me and now can’t hear me. It was completely isolating.

Anyway, I didn't like the speech therapist in the hospital much and I remember thinking:

‘you don't know me… I can persevere when I am determined about something’.

I don't give up on things easily. And I really mean that. It might sound like one of those

things you say in an interview situation where you use a positive character trait as a

negative for example ‘I get too involved in things’ but, trust me, I really do persevere.

And whilst my voice had changed I was lucky because as a lawyer I used to dictate a lot.

So I knew exactly how my voice used to sound. And because I was so determined to

improve my speech, I have over 600 recordings made over the 5 years (not including the

nightly stories I used to read to the children and record).

As I say: I don't give up easily!

Now, whilst I am still able to express what I think  (and for this I am truly grateful because

plenty of people who have suffered similar brain haemorrhages aren't that lucky) I can’t think

or say what I want to as quickly as I used to be able to and this annoys me.

It also gets worse when I am rushed. And whilst it's all very well thinking it's other people's

problem rushing me in everyday life situations, sometimes everyday life is rushed. It’s just

part of it.

I am also quiet so people often don't hear me, especially if you are in a different room or

next to a noise. However asking me to repeat myself just winds me up - it goes back to when

I was constantly reminded that I was less clear than I wanted to be.

I would love to sound like I used to, but I don't. I am still working with a lovely speech therapist

and whilst I sound better than I did (so the hospital speech therapist WAS wrong) it's still not

right and I can't wave a magic wand to sound better!

However an example of how much I have improved happened recently. My son opened a gate

in a hospital waiting room, left it open and ran across to the XBox (who says hospitals don't

have any money?!). I called for him to come back. But he ignored me.

In that moment, I had a decision to make: should I just close the gate and pretend nothing had

happened or should I leave it open and loudly count to 3. In my house if I get to 3 it's

automatically into the ‘naughty corner’ and that happens thankfully very rarely.

And I choose to count… I got to 2. And I was SO happy that my son listened to me.  It was

a huge thing for me because the waiting area was busy and everyone was looking at me.

I really didn't want to be the sad, crazy disabled lady who shouts, sounds a bit strange and is

ignored by her own child.

It was a huge relief though as in that moment I did exactly what I would have done as a

mother before my haemorrhage.

Nowadays I don't have any qualms about making any telephone calls. I do always start by

saying I have had a brain haemorrhage and that they may need to bear with me. I actually

find doing this really helpful because I have their attention.

I don’t like my new voice, but I have come to accept it. And I think what has really changed

is that I care less what people think about. It takes time to develop a thick skin but I am

working at it. Recovery is a continual work in progress.