Amy Signs: A Mother, Her Daughter, and their Stories

20. Dreams and Reality

123 20 Dreams and Reality Rebecca By the time I arrive home, my head throbs. I only want to soak in a hot bath with a good book, but that will have to wait until the children are in bed. When Jack comes home, I pop garlic bread under the broiler. “Supper will be ready soon.” “Good.” Jack washes his hands at the kitchen sink. “I could eat a horse. Took me four hours to unload the truck today. I’m beat.” “Me too. I told Dr. Zimmer we’re not coming back anymore. He was really nasty. Said Amy wouldn’t amount to anything if I took her out of his program.” My temper’s hotter than the flame in the broiler as I relate Dr. Zimmer’s stinging words. “. . . and then, I hit a motorcycle.” “What? Was anybody hurt?” Jack asks. “No.” Several hours after the fact, I see the humor in the motorcycle incident. Jack laughs as I describe standing like a drowned rat in pouring rain, trying to upright the heavy motorcycle.“I’m sure the policeman thought I was nuts.” “Be glad you don’t have to go there again.” Jack calls the children to the table as I spoon macaroni and cheese on our plates. Once seated, we bow our heads for prayer. “God is great and God is good, we thank him for this food—” Beep! Beep! Beep! The smoke detector blares. Amy Signs Main Pgs 1-320.indd 123 6/27/2012 10:37:43 AM 124 Amy Signs “Well, probably not this food,” I say. The pungent odor of burnt garlic bread fills the room. ) That night I take a hot bath and then relax with a book I’ve heard a lot about recently: On Death and Dying. Soon I’m engrossed in the Kübler-Ross grief cycle. As I read, I find myself comparing accepting the death of a loved one to the shock of learning Amy was deaf and the loss of the dreams I had for her. My dreams were nothing out of the ordinary, just common things like seeing her walk to school with her brother, going to her dance recital, and watching her leave for her senior prom. In the past two years, professionals have suggested ways to help Amy, but no one offered grief counseling to me or other parents of handicapped children, and we sure could use it. Educated as a sociologist, and hoping one day to earn a master of social work degree, I visualize how the stages Kübler-Ross describes could assist parents to accept the life-altering changes that occur when a child is born with a disability, any disability, not just deafness. Stage one, shock: the initial paralysis of hearing the bad news. Been there, done that. I was a robot for weeks. Shock is filled with questions that begin with why, how, and what. Stage two, denial: ignoring the truth and trying to avoid the inevitable . I did that before Amy’s diagnosis when I ignored subtle clues that she was deaf. I can’t deny she’s deaf now. Her squealing hearing aid won’t let me. Esther still denies Amy’s deaf; I’m glad my family doesn’t. Denial is a dead-end road. Denial doesn’t change the situation ; it only delays progress. Stage three, anger: the frustrated outpouring of bottled-up emotions . Kübler-Ross writes that anger is a common reaction to situations we can’t change or control. God knows I’m angry. Life isn’t the least bit fair for me, Amy, John, or Jack. Parents of handicapped children are angry about many things. Bungled deliveries, medications with side effects, family members who berate them, prying questions, accusations. I’ve spat plenty of angry words to nosy strangers, and that confrontation with Dr. Zimmer was no picnic either. Unlike some parents who are angry because they have a handicapped child, I’m thankful Amy was entrusted to me. I feel sick when Amy Signs Main Pgs 1-320.indd 124 6/27/2012 10:37:43 AM Dreams and Reality 125 I read about parents who mistreat handicapped kids, locking them in rooms, beating them, and doing other unspeakable acts. Anger is wasted energy, unless you put it to work. Hmm, maybe I should write something for the newspaper.Try to educate hearing people about deafness...