A life lesson

Three years ago, having been on medication for a few weeks due to my P.E. condition, I reported back to the hospital team that it was affecting my speech. My ability to provide a fluid reply had gone – basically, I had a time delay between thought and verbal speech. 

On this date in 2022, I remember having a conversation which I struggled through as I couldn’t maintain a normal level of speech. My embarrassment was all-consuming. It might not seem like a hinderance as each pause was literally a few heart beats but in a world where quick-fire questions are asked of you every hour of the day - this side-effect felt like an utter nightmare. 

I’ll give you a scenario: you enter a shop, queue to pay for your basket of goods. At the counter, the shop assistant says ‘Good morning’. My normal reaction is an instant reply, but not the newly medicated me. In the time it took me to answer, the shop assistant thinks I’ve ignored their greeting. Instantly, I’d receive a hard stare, a not-so-subtle head shake or be labelled rude – after which my words are finally uttered. Nowadays, a quick succession of questions follow most daily interactions: Have you got a loyalty card? Do you need a bag? Would you be interested in donating towards …? After each question, my poor brain had to process the answer, consciously aware of the momentary pause and then literally spit out the words. I quickly learnt which shops I couldn’t enter, as some staff hadn’t the patience to serve me. And I hadn't the strength to endure their reactions.

I’d never previously experienced a speech problem. Thankfully, I understood the basics of what was happening within my brain but it didn’t make it any easier to handle. Other people, total strangers, regularly showed their irritation, spoke over me, finished my sentences or didn’t allow me the time to answer. The worse cases were those who continually repeated the same question forcing my speech to develop into a stutter because they kept interrupting my brain’s pathways, which were all firing and attempting to process the previous three times they’d asked the same damned question. It goes without saying the more I panicked, became embarrassed or tried to quicken my speech the worse it became. Nightmare!

The worst moment was when a young shop assistant asked ‘Do. You. Understand. Me?’ in a slow drawn-out tone as if speaking to … well, I don’t know what she thought she was speaking to. I burst out crying on leaving that supermarket.

There were funny moments - I enjoy TV quizzes so during this time, try as hard as I might, I constantly answered after the on-screen contestants, providing an echo answer and much hilarity when I was clearly wrong! 

I had to endure ten weeks of this speech impediment and I don’t mind admitting, it took its toll on me. Thankfully, my speech processing returned to normal once I was taken off the medication, but I hope I never forget how it feels not to be able to communicate in a world that demands an instant reply.​

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