Hello, I am a little boy who only sees right with his heart...
Which doesn't make my parent's daily life any easier. So I'm blind and different (mentally speaking).
This blog was born in french during autumn 2003 and is now progressively being translated in your language.
New articles will therefore appear on a regular basis.
DISCLAIMER
... my apologies to the people who hadn't understood this yet, all articles on this website are created and written by myself (his dad).
Lou is currently unable to do it,, just like he is to this day unable to grasp the concept of a "computer", "internet", or to focus for a long period of time on a conversation. Only time will tell us if we manage to integrate him completely in the world in which he lives.
Therefore all stories, despite relating actual facts, are obviously biased by my interpretation of his behavior. But having known him for over five years, I don't think I'm getting it wrong.
Thank you to the "Roi Baudoin" foundation ( "Parcours hors pistes" ). The new design, hosting and translations were partially made possible by their financial support.
Many thanks to Marco Pappalardo et Laetitia Bouet for the translation.
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wednesday 28 september 2005
123. My perception 2 : Demonstration at the doctor's
(continued) All that to tell you that yesterday, me and daddy went to see the neuropediatrician
(for once, mommy was off duty). It's a man I see every six months to evaluate my psychomotor and neurological development.
As soon as daddy picked me up from school and told me where we were headed, I demanded some guarantees : "no little jabs !" (I get the daily evening "little jab" for my hormones - which goes down without a problem - and hospital "jabs" confused). Daddy reassures me : we are indeed going to the hospital, but there will be no jab. So I stay cool.
After an hour long trip (we must go the other end of the city), we get to the hospital.
In the admissions hall, it's full of noises, children yelling and also crying. I don't like that ! I need to be reassured, I need explanations, otherwise ... Then it's the stroller ride in a maze of hallways. Finally the waiting, not long for once, before meeting the doctor.
Feeling in great shape, I give him right away a demonstration of "how well I can jump" : I jump up and down, without any support, and manage to defeat Newton over a few centimeters. The doctor appreciates. I also perform the "stroller, stay !" show in the hallway, to show him how well I can walk now. He's very proud of me. So I blurt my usual verbiage (Marie-Anne, little dog Courage, swear words, "piapaille woops!" etc...), punctuated by my repetitive gestures, kicking, and other movements called "reassurance" movements.
Daddy knows all about it, but for your benefit I'll explain again what "reassurance" movements are : since I can't see, all I have to remind me of the existence of parts of - or my whole - body is the sense of touch and feeling my extremities move. Even sticking my finger in my mouth (see post 116) betrays the need to feel that part of my body as actually being there. The problem is, I can't do a hundred things at the same time. I can't "pick up the pieces" while I'm comunicating. That's one of the main problems with me. But the doctor is hopeful. He talks for a while with daddy, while I listen. It's going into one ear, and soon enough it will be going out the other. Hence my crude transcription, because to me it's all chinese. Maybe someone will be able to understand, and hopefully I'm not twisting their words too much.
Among all the people I meet, some of them are part of a very particular tribe : I'm talking about doctors. They resemble each other so much one may think they all have the same daddy and the same mommy. Maybe they do, maybe they all live in the same place, and they're one big family.
Doctors are funny guys whom I meet in rooms that always have the same smell and the same peculiar vibrancy : cold and muffled at the same time. I also recognize them right away by that starched tissue, with that neck and those buttons going down to the knees. It looks like a shirt-skirt. (daddy says it's a white doctor's apron).
When I make a phone call for real (not with my Buzz Lightyear phone), I'm overcome by a verbal frenzy. It's so much fun. So I end up not listening to the person on the other end and I just blurt out whatever is going through my head (preferably my stereotyped sentences of the moment).
An example ? When daddy and mommy called me from Cabourg where they were spending a romantic week-end and I was ill (a nasty conjunctivitis which required Dr Jean-Francois' intervention) ( see post 72), here's what I told them on the phone :
119. Chronicles of time passing time 6 (continued) : I listen to everything !
(...continued)
On this rainy sunday, they wouldn't even let me go walk the dog in the forest. Daddy got
all wet on his own. Serves him right !
When he came back, he kissed me in the neck (I was busy with my gargantuan late afternoon lunch), then I heard give mom a passionate kiss. Eva who was passing by on her scooter (inside the house!), while continuing her visit of the ground floor, let out "Oh, I just met romanticism !". Daddy and mommy burst into laughter... I didn't react, but I did hear it, because despite appearances I listen to everything ! Want proof ?
A few moments later I hear daddy talking to Eva in the living room and telling her : "Swear !" Since I'm becoming the "swear words keeper" at home, I didn't let it slide : "Daddy, you can't say swear words !" (in french just like in english, to swear means both to make a promise and to use swear words or to curse) Daddy was taken aback : "...But, I didn't say any swear words !" Mommy put two and two together right away. So daddy tried to explain to me that there is "swearing" and "swearing", well..., before admitting the correct word would've been : promised or promise.
Speaking of which, this is still one of my favorite subjects : whether it's Lou, little dog Courage , Mister René
, or anybody else, I remind them every hour of the day (and night) that they can't say swear words. I even asked mommy while taking a bath how to say "you can't say swear words" in dutch (speaking dutch has also become one of my centers of interest lately). Mommy rushed to daddy's office, who was busy writing on his computer. I heard them laugh
in the next room. Good question !(regarding the dutch translation of "swear words") Headed for the "Frans-Nederlands" dictionary. Of course "swear words" wasn't in it. They decided to go with "insult". Back in the bathroom, mommy gave me the translation : "Je mag geen beleidiging zeggen !" (literal translation of course). So I applied myself to repeating that sentence. One of these days I'll use it again for sure !
Despite the dull weather on this sunday, things were far from dull at home. I must say I gave it all I got. Besides, mommy and daddy found a way around my refusals and my "no's" which often ended up
with me throwing a fit : the word "soon" ! In other words, they warn me well in advance of the deadlines : bath, bed, etc... And it works !
So, see you soon ! ('cause it might work on you too, dear readers !)
