Communication Problems

Years ago a British show called Fawlty Towers ran an episode called “Communication Problems.” In the episode, the owner of a hotel (Basil Fawlty, aka John Cleese) had an elderly female guest who refused to turn on her hearing aid because it “wore the batteries down.” And since this was British farce, all kinds of hilarity ensued given the fact that the woman always misunderstood what was being said.

Well, you know the old cliché, “Truth is Stranger than fiction”? Welcome to “Communication Problems” Keller style.

Yesterday at church, Ariel leans over to me during a hymn and whispers, “I can’t see.” Given the fact that she’s not stumbling around blind and that she wears glasses, I think, “Right. Time to make an appointment with the optometrist again.”

As the service goes on, I notice that she’s beginning to look a little “wilted” around the edges. I think, “Ariel’s re-caught that nasty cold that we’ve been sharing.” After the service, Ariel says, “I need to go home—my head hurts.” I find Luke and give him the job of driving his sister home and then coming back. I tell Ariel. She holds out her hand to me and whines, “My hand is numb.” I think, “My goodness, girl, don’t be so overwrought.” But I say, “Yes, yes, Luke is going to take you home. Don’t worry, you’re not having a stroke.”

Ariel and Luke trundle off home. Then we all come home. Ariel is curled up in a sitting fetal position with a deer-in-headlights look on her face. “My head hurts really bad—I took two Aleve, but they aren’t helping.” I assume she has a nasty sinus headache and shift into mother-of-sick-child mode. Within five minutes, I’ve given Ariel decongestant, a vaporizer is spewing out steam, her chest is slathered in Vick’s vaporub, and she has a cold compress.

Now that she has everything she could possibly need, including a bowl of macaroni and cheese made from scratch, I sit with her. And she begins to tell me, “You know when I said I couldn’t see, I really couldn’t see.” “What do you mean?” I ask. It turns out that she had blind spots and flashing lights in her right eye. And then, that numbness in her hand, it actually started in her foot went to her hand and finally ended up making the right side of her face numb.

The proverbial light dawns in my head. “Ariel, did the weird things go away after the pain started?” She looked at me nonplussed. “Yeah, actually.” I sigh heavily, “My dear, welcome to the world of migraines with aura. It’s not a nice place, but there you are.”

After I called our friend who is a neurologist and got Ariel treated (thank you, thank you—she’d have been miserable at ER waiting for hours to be seen), I ask, “Sweetheart, what did you think was happening to you?” She thought that she was going blind in one eye, or getting glaucoma, or some other horror. “And what about the numbness in your face?” Ariel: “That was very scary.” I say, “Why didn’t you tell me your right side was going numb?” “It was only my hand and foot at first, and I thought they were asleep. It wasn’t until I was on the way home that my face went numb.”

This, of course, is why parents carry cellphones. “Why didn’t you call me?” Ariel explains, “I knew you were busy and I didn’t want to bother you.” Children don’t seem to realize that a parent will sprout eagle’s wings and fly home if their children are hurt or in danger. And as Ariel reminds me, “I did tell you.” Yep, communication problems. Watch out Basil Fawlty, you’ve got nothing on me.

Speaking, Without Words

Yesterday I came home from Ariel’s music lessons (that girl has to get a driver’s license soon) to find the front lawn littered with massive magnolia branches.

Me: Hmm. Look what Dad did while I was gone.
Ariel: Yeah.

We go into the house, and I find my beloved husband.

Cal smiles. (Now for those of you who haven’t been married for twenty plus years, I will have to interpret.) A smile with a twinkle in the eye means: Neener! Look at what I did while you were gone.

I raise an eyebrow. Translation: You never would have done this if I would have been home because I would have pitched an absolute hissy fit. And I would have been justified in doing so because you were foolhardy! (BTW, if the eyebrow would have been raised a fraction of an inch higher, it would have included an mild accusation of a violation of the 6th commandment—Thou shalt not kill—even yourself, by accident. But the eyebrow didn’t go that high.)

Cal raises the corner of his mouth. Translation: Don’t be a hypocrite, sweetiepie. You would have done the same thing, only you’re too wimpy and can’t move the massive ladder without help.

I wrinkle my brow. Translation: I would NOT have climbed up the ladder, shimmied up the very high pitched roof, and sat on top of the chimney to cut tree branches. (Yes, he really did this.)

Cal raises both eyebrows. Translation: Are you or are you not the woman who stood up on a sled and rode it over a jump that was so dangerous that other parents said to their children, and I quote, “Don’t even think of doing what that woman just did!”

I lick my lower lip. Translation: Okay. I’m guilty as charged, but you should have let me do the climbing since I have much better sense of balance than you do.

Cal’s other eye twinkles. Translation: So, what do you think?

Finally, the conversation becomes verbal once again. I say, “Honey, the tree looks great!”

You too can learn to speak facial expressions—it only takes a couple of decades of marriage. But, I must warn you occasionally the gesture for words method of dialogue can lead to interesting communication errors, and your conversation can morph from the kids need to be hung upside down by their toenails to you did what to the van with a jar of honey?

Here’s a picture of Cal and the tree. Unfortunately, you don't get a sense of the pitch or breadth of the roof that was so extreme that when we had to re-roof several years ago, many roofers weren't even willing to consider our roof once they saw it.




Here’s a picture of some of the beautiful flowers I picked from the chopped down branches. The scent is interesting, sort of like sour oranges.