Over the weeks that followed, I became proficient at bridging the gaps in my speech...I became an expert in eliminating the umms, errs, and stutters that my brain tended towards mid-sentence. Instead, I employed deep breaths and wistful stares. Every point appeared well considered...carefully delivered. The truth, however, was that I was struggling desperately to hold simple sentences together. I could feel myself withdrawing more and more.
When I think back, I'd experienced these symptoms before, but in far greater peaks and troughs. An example being at a close friend's wedding. I had hit the wine in quite a spectacular way, but still maintain that falling flat on my arse had been the result of an ill placed plant pot. The second malfunction of the evening, however, had been the result of something more sinister. As the evening wore on, so did people's patience. I was trying my best to integrate with the group, many of whom I'd never met before, but words were becoming ever harder to come by. By the time I had joined my friends in a taxi towards home, venturing for a final beer in town, I had lost the power of speech entirely. This was the source of much amusement for my friends, and endless frustration for me. I was not accustomed to being lost for words, but to lose the power of speech completely was devastating. It was all I could do to make hand signals and gestures in a desperate attempt to let people know what I was doing. It was easy to pass my difficulties off as drunkenness...little did I know that this was my earliest and clearest warning of what was lurking beneath my skull.
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