The Disability Chat

Marley:
I looked down at the notepad she handed me, not really sure what she wanted from me, anyway. They told me I wouldn't have any emotions, and from what I saw so far, that seemed pretty spot on.

So. How was I feeling, exactly? How am I supposed to know? I contemplated all this numbly while I started making little squiggles on the page, quickly losing reason to even think about what I was doing. I thought back to Cricket and T.Mor and Peter and thought about what they might be doing then.

Also, I dully contemplated how the lack of soul feeling was... ...uncomfortable... no, that wasn't quite the word, it wasn't like there was any kind of discomfort associated with it. Like when there's something just missing, and you can feel the hole it leaves. An empty little spot my powers left.

Dr Doe
I tried to think of a way to phrase it so that he'd understand... "I'm going to try to help you. Even if I can't make you how you were, I'm going to do my best to make it less... terrible. Maybe help your legs, if I can, or-" I looked back to Cricket "Give you some of your hearing back, maybe. No guarantees, but I, and the rest of the staff, are going to do our best. Okay?" My voice was encouraging but not forcible, my tone a tad softer but professional. "That's all I want. For the both of you"

Dr.Mencha:

...feeling like squiggly lines is not atypical of the medication, oddly enough. Most patients on that stuff end up too apathetic about things to try to sort out anything more than squiggly lines- it was a bit of an extreme mood normalizer like that. "So...My thoughts on the matter are that we oughta figure out a way to get you off the crazy crap and onto a mood stabilizer that is less... invasive. How does that sound?" I went ahead and asked. We'd get onto the technicalities in a moment, but... just wanted to know that we were all on the same wavelength, essentially. The nuts and bolts of that whole procedure could be dealt with in due time.

Marley
I looked up from the paper for a moment, the end of my pencil snapping. Is that what I wanted? Less invasive... that meant weaker, I guessed. Maybe. I could get feelings back, that way, but... I tried to remember what I was like before the medication, which was harder than it sounds. It was like trying to invent a color- I couldn't feel, so therefor I couldn't remember what it was like.

I could remember what I did, though... how dangerous I had been, how... bad it was, I guess, how terrible... things had become after the dreamweaver and... I shook my head slightly. This was safer, maybe, at least. Couldn't miss something I didn't remember, and this hollow feeling carried no pain of the loss.

So why would I give it up?

Cricket

I still didn't catch all of it, but she, at least, had a tongue to follow. And she talked slower for me, I'm fairly certain. I assume . . . reason for being here, to discuss . . . treatment, forming . . . schedules, time in the program.

I looked down, clenching and unclenching my fists to give my hands something to do. It was suddenly one of those uncomfortable moments that made me itch to trace the letters on my neck, like that would reassure me that some things don't change. I could lose friends, senses, memories, but not scars . . . oi my my. I'm not sure. I think perhaps it was that I hated standing there, struggling in front of a near stranger to decode words like an idiot. Perhaps I didn't like the idea of a program. I simply don't know.

Then I saw her look my way in the corner of my eye, and studied her lips. Give me . . . what? Hearing. I saw hearing. I saw hearing, and then I saw nothing else. "Hm?"

T.Mor:

... ...Less terrible. ...That... that sounded alright. I mean... less bad was kinda like better which was kinda like... not bad... which... could almost be...

It occurred to me again right there that ...basically... I was unemployed. ...Basically. I think. Which meant I had no money, which meant that I couldn't pay for the house which meant bad things. And that that....that was going to keep being how it was...because... ...there was no way I could maintain my hours...like this...

So...even just slightly less bad... would..would help... somehow...right? And I mean... the idea of...of Cricket kinda being able to hear again sounded really good and stuff... And... so... even if it was kinda... really scary and weird and not like how home was... why... why not at least....try?

I noticed Cricket notice the word hearing... and he was suddenly paying a lot more attention to stuff... which... was... good I think. Then... then maybe we could do this treatment planning stuff... ...together... instead of uh... less together.

"...Uhm... ...Ok... erm. " I mumbled with a bit of a nod, Kind of still really... apprehensive? Is that a word? ...yeah. That.

Dr Doe
Cricket perked up a little, that was good... I faced him full on, this time, so he could get the benefit of that. "We're going to try several treatments in an attempt to restore your hearing" I slowed down even more than before, trying to communicate the full impact of what I had to say.

Dr.Mencha:

Clear response in the negatory. Awesome. "Why don't you want to feel normal again?" I knew from the file that her brother had been murdered... which... is pretty intense. I was kind of just hoping that she'd cite the same reason, so I could continue with the logical leading line of questions that normally led people to realise that they ought to perhaps try to get on stabler drugs so that they can actually deal with their problems and get back to... at least a decent facsimile of what they had been.

I didn't worry about time for this whole thing, because my next appointment was with a man who obsessed over his late 1960's magazines so much that he accidentally almost burned to death with them when his house unexpectedly caught fire. ...He was at 3pm. It was all good.

Cricket

I didn't dare to blink until after she'd finished talking. And then I nodded slowly, my mind whirring.

T.Mor:

I wondered how many different things these people could do with WD-40, Socks, coat hangers and duct tape... because if there were several treatments for not being able to hear... That was fancy...

"...Several...?" I asked after I was sure that Cricket had gotten all her words.

Marley:
I scribbled down a single sentence in messy, childlike scrawl on the pad and showed it to her.
I don't want to be out of control.

She probably didn't understand. I had to wonder how much she even knew, how I could, would, might even want to, crush the souls of every person in the area if I got off those drugs. I wondered if she'd even /try/ to help me if she did know, if anybody here knew... or if they'd turn me over to the Hunters in a heartbeat.

Dr Doe
"Yes. First of all, we will probably at least look into surgery as a viable option and see if the inner ears can be reconstructed. If not, we can explore our other options from there" I explained carefully.

T.Mor:

...Something told me you couldn't do that with some tape and WD-40. ...Also I didn't know we had ears inside our ears... so that was...how it was... "...Surgery...?" I asked, not knowing that word.

Dr.Mencha:

"Lack of control is a normal concern... so... don't worry. And none of the changes that I'm proposing would go on instantaneously...because really that's just kinda bad form there, especially if you feel that you need it at the moment." I explained calmly. Lack of emotional control and stability was a normal issue that people tried to avoid by using that stuff, and while it worked... It kind of detached you epically from... everything else out there...Which was of course no way at all to do anything.

Marley
Another message on the paper, now, and I showed it to her again
you don't understand. it isnt like the others. diferent

(Spelling and grammar intentional on my part. Cos she's Marley.

Cricket

Ah . . . I caught 'reconstruct', I think, which didn't sound too pleasant. To reconstruct you have to deconstruct, and even if that'd been done quite a bit already with the sharp shoot of a gun, I had a feeling that wasn't the type of deconstructing they'd have to do.

". . . Ah . . . pardon. I speak not-medical . . ." I trailed off, I think. Hated not being able to hear myself. Felt like a murmer, but it could have been loud enough to wake a graveyard.

Dr.Mencha:

"Well... of course, I mean... no two people are really the same, despite whatever common neural signals fire and whatever chemicals can be rebalanced to deal with mood... I mean, even then not all people react to the same drugs in the same way...So..." I explained, though I had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't talking about the same kind of identity problem that I was trained to address. "If you'd like to explain exactly what you mean by that I may be able to assist you better." I added on after a minute.

Dr Doe
"Ah, sorry..." The apology was at the both of them. I had slipped up, forgetting that they didn't have that kind of terminology in their respective universes "We're going to try to... build the inside of your ear back" ...That sounded a little bit terrible when said like that, honestly...

T.Mor:

...build it out of...what? ...and... wouldn't.. wouldn't that uhm... hurt...? It sounded really... scary. I mean... how would they even get it... inside his head...? I tried to get my face to not look all: waitwhat when she said that, but I don't know how well that worked.

Marley
I shook my head and scribbled everything on the notepad out with a slightly... shaky hand. She didn't understand after all, I was right. This was meaningless, useless. Waste of time.

Cricket

It sounded like something out of a kid's imagination. Don't worry. If you get your hearing blown off you can just put it back! I desperately wanted to believe her. Perhaps whatever she had planned would work. But then, honestly, everything here seemed too good to be true, an unsettling perfect-and-clean. Who's to say that it wasn't all a lie?

I'd grown tired of trying to talk, so I just waited and gave a questioning look.

Dr.Mencha:

And suddenly she was scratching it all out. "...What are you doing? Did... did I say something wrong?" I asked uncertainly. I didn't want to lose any trust she'd had for me because I answered her too literally... That was always a delicate line to toe. "Look, I am just here to help. And...if you don't tell me things... I'm just going to have to take my best guess, and that is malpractice and shouldn't ever happen ever... so... why not just give it a try...? I mean... I'm not going to criticize you or anything. Don't worry."

Dr Doe
"It's a tentative plan... that is, I'm not sure how much of your hearing we could recover... but I think we should keep optimistic. There have been thousands of cases like yours where there has been at /least/ partial if not complete success" I didn't want to get their hopes up too much, but... I was feeling confident about Cricket's case, at least. T.Morbid's... not so much...

Marley:
"I kill people" I mouthed, almost sure she couldn't lipread when I have no tongue "I kill people and you would be helping me. That what you want, doctor?"

T.Mor:

...so... That sounded really good actually, that they could...kinda most likely possibly help Cricket.

I didn't know whether or not I should ask about myself. ...Because I mean... unless they could just... reconstruct spines too...But I mean... they were practically magic making it possible to rebuild ears...so maybe it would be possible...

"...uhm... ...and..." I paused, kinda...nervous. "...me...?"

Dr.Mencha:

...Oh crap not another one from the exorcist. "Do you do that... often?" I had to ask prior to answering anything. "And while I wouldn't like to let you kill people, I am uncomfortable with you being on that drug for more than like a month at a time. I don't want you addicted."

Marley:
I shake my head. "I hated it more than anything" I continued, still with the mouthing "I think, at least. But it was hard to control with everything. Too hard" Why was I answering her questions? After a half a pause, I frowned "Another dose of medicine"

Cricket

She was telling me that it was a good thing to do, is what I gathered. I could feel my expression perk up just a bit more, even if on false hopes. I could hear again? Possibly? A small little fragment of a hope that I wouldn't have to forget what people's voices sounded like?

I looked at T.Mor to see what he might be thinking, and was instead struck with my own thoughts. She'd been looking at me optimistically right there, not T.Mor. What about him?

If they could make a deaf man hear, they ought to make a lame man walk.