Life never seems to work out the way some people plan. Yet, for others,
things always seem to go smoothly. Funny how that is. I guess that's why
the saying, "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence!"
is so popular.
My life has taken many turns, some predictable, some totally unexpected. Through it all I've always had the unconditional love of a woman. First, my mother, Marie, then my best friend, Catherine, and now, my wife, Sara. I know this seems kind of maudlin, but truly, despite the disappointments, I'm happy, I'm content.
Sara was devastated when my surgery failed. Oh, she never said that, not even to herself, but I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't feeling sorry for herself, and she wasn't pitying me, she just couldn't believe I was the one in twenty for whom the surgery is ineffective.
Of course, not one to waste time, she threw herself into learning American Sign Language. Within six months she was fluent. The whole electrical system in the house was overhauled and modified for me before I had even been cleared to return to work. My first night back, I discovered she had arranged for the team to be tutored in sign language; the office, breakroom, interrogation rooms and labs modified; and my Big Mouth Billy Bass to cause my chair to vibrate when the door to my office was opened! Is it any wonder I adore her?
The first few nights back were awkward, at best. Everyone felt a little self-conscious, over-enunciating, speaking a little too slow or too fast or too loud, stumbling through signs. I knew then how wrong I had been to keep my otosclerosis hidden from the team. Thank God Greg knew how to sign fluently. His neice is deaf, so he's signed for several years. He became my fiercest defender/translator/friend, after Sara. In a way, the failed surgery was a blessing. As much as I admired Greg before, we would never have developed the bond we have today if I had retained my hearing.
Sometimes you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone. Lucky for me, Sara taught me that lesson a while back. By the time the surgery was scheduled, I was resigned to the changes that would have to be made should the surgery fail. Greg and Sara took turns shadowing me in the field as I adjusted to my new reality. I could do the experiments, the lab work, the tests without any modifications, but being at a scene could be complicated. No more solo cases for me. I don't drive much anymore and never alone. I still drop dummies off buildings - it's much easier now to ignore the crowds that inevitably gather. I can't respond to audio pages, so my phone routes those to Sara's or Catherine's. Text messages are fine. Of course the upside is I can't complain about Greg's choice of rock, or Nick's leanings towards Country/Western music. They remind me I can't knock what I haven't heard! The team still scolds me for "experiments" left in the breakroom fridge - I promised them a new refridgerator for Christmas this year. It's the least I can do!
Catherine was with me the day of surgery. I didn't ask her to come, but, being the wonderful friend she is, she was there anyway. Of course, that meant she got to share the bad news when the surgeon was done. She didn't say much, just listened while I bemoaned my own stubborness and my genetic shortcomings. I know she was upset and angry, but she never let on. She took on my burdens at work and helped settle my personal life. She and Sara fought tooth and nail to save my job for me, even though it meant a lot more work for them.
So that brings me to where I stand today. Preparing to give the commencement address at Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C. They've offered me a position at the university, working to set up a co-op program in Forensics with the Commonwealth of Virginia and the F.B.I. laboratories at Quantico. I'll most likely agree to take the appointment. It will finally give Catherine the promotion she deserves and the job she has been doing for the past three years anyway. Sara has been offered the corresponding position in Richmond and will take it if I accept Dr. Gilbert's offer. It's one of those unexpected turns that life takes, but I think it will turn out to be a good one.
TBC...
My life has taken many turns, some predictable, some totally unexpected. Through it all I've always had the unconditional love of a woman. First, my mother, Marie, then my best friend, Catherine, and now, my wife, Sara. I know this seems kind of maudlin, but truly, despite the disappointments, I'm happy, I'm content.
Sara was devastated when my surgery failed. Oh, she never said that, not even to herself, but I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't feeling sorry for herself, and she wasn't pitying me, she just couldn't believe I was the one in twenty for whom the surgery is ineffective.
Of course, not one to waste time, she threw herself into learning American Sign Language. Within six months she was fluent. The whole electrical system in the house was overhauled and modified for me before I had even been cleared to return to work. My first night back, I discovered she had arranged for the team to be tutored in sign language; the office, breakroom, interrogation rooms and labs modified; and my Big Mouth Billy Bass to cause my chair to vibrate when the door to my office was opened! Is it any wonder I adore her?
The first few nights back were awkward, at best. Everyone felt a little self-conscious, over-enunciating, speaking a little too slow or too fast or too loud, stumbling through signs. I knew then how wrong I had been to keep my otosclerosis hidden from the team. Thank God Greg knew how to sign fluently. His neice is deaf, so he's signed for several years. He became my fiercest defender/translator/friend, after Sara. In a way, the failed surgery was a blessing. As much as I admired Greg before, we would never have developed the bond we have today if I had retained my hearing.
Sometimes you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone. Lucky for me, Sara taught me that lesson a while back. By the time the surgery was scheduled, I was resigned to the changes that would have to be made should the surgery fail. Greg and Sara took turns shadowing me in the field as I adjusted to my new reality. I could do the experiments, the lab work, the tests without any modifications, but being at a scene could be complicated. No more solo cases for me. I don't drive much anymore and never alone. I still drop dummies off buildings - it's much easier now to ignore the crowds that inevitably gather. I can't respond to audio pages, so my phone routes those to Sara's or Catherine's. Text messages are fine. Of course the upside is I can't complain about Greg's choice of rock, or Nick's leanings towards Country/Western music. They remind me I can't knock what I haven't heard! The team still scolds me for "experiments" left in the breakroom fridge - I promised them a new refridgerator for Christmas this year. It's the least I can do!
Catherine was with me the day of surgery. I didn't ask her to come, but, being the wonderful friend she is, she was there anyway. Of course, that meant she got to share the bad news when the surgeon was done. She didn't say much, just listened while I bemoaned my own stubborness and my genetic shortcomings. I know she was upset and angry, but she never let on. She took on my burdens at work and helped settle my personal life. She and Sara fought tooth and nail to save my job for me, even though it meant a lot more work for them.
So that brings me to where I stand today. Preparing to give the commencement address at Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C. They've offered me a position at the university, working to set up a co-op program in Forensics with the Commonwealth of Virginia and the F.B.I. laboratories at Quantico. I'll most likely agree to take the appointment. It will finally give Catherine the promotion she deserves and the job she has been doing for the past three years anyway. Sara has been offered the corresponding position in Richmond and will take it if I accept Dr. Gilbert's offer. It's one of those unexpected turns that life takes, but I think it will turn out to be a good one.
TBC...
