SquidgeWorld Archive

Title: Musings

Author: Peggie

Thanks: Karen a/k/a GiGI - You ARE a wonderful friend!

Disclaimers: What do you mean I don't own Grissom???

Pairings: Gil/Sara

Musings
By Peggie

Life never seems to work out the way some people plan. Yet, for others, things always seem to go smoothly. Funny how that is. I guess that's why the saying, "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence!" is so popular.

My life has taken many turns, some predictable, some totally unexpected. Through it all I've always had the unconditional love of a woman. First, my mother, Marie, then my best friend, Catherine, and now, my wife, Sara. I know this seems kind of maudlin, but truly, despite the disappointments, I'm happy, I'm content.

Sara was devastated when my surgery failed. Oh, she never said that, not even to herself, but I could see it in her eyes. She wasn't feeling sorry for herself, and she wasn't pitying me, she just couldn't believe I was the one in twenty for whom the surgery is ineffective.

Of course, not one to waste time, she threw herself into learning American Sign Language. Within six months she was fluent. The whole electrical system in the house was overhauled and modified for me before I had even been cleared to return to work. My first night back, I discovered she had arranged for the team to be tutored in sign language; the office, breakroom, interrogation rooms and labs modified; and my Big Mouth Billy Bass to cause my chair to vibrate when the door to my office was opened! Is it any wonder I adore her?

The first few nights back were awkward, at best. Everyone felt a little self-conscious, over-enunciating, speaking a little too slow or too fast or too loud, stumbling through signs. I knew then how wrong I had been to keep my otosclerosis hidden from the team. Thank God Greg knew how to sign fluently. His neice is deaf, so he'd signed for several years. He became my fiercest defender/translator/friend, after Sara. In a way, the failed surgery was a blessing. As much as I admired Greg before, we would never have developed the bond we have today if I had retained my hearing.

Sometimes you don't appreciate what you have until it's gone. Lucky for me, Sara taught me that lesson a while back. By the time the surgery was scheduled, I was resigned to the changes that would have to be made should the surgery fail. Greg and Sara took turns shadowing me in the field as I adjusted to my new reality. I could do the experiments, the lab work, the tests without any modifications, but being at a scene could be complicated. No more solo cases for me. I don't drive much anymore and never alone. I still drop dummies off buildings - it's much easier now to ignore the crowds that inevitably gather. I can't respond to audio pages, so my phone routes those to Sara's or Catherine's. Text messages are fine. Of course the upside is I can't complain about Greg's choice of rock, or Nick's leanings towards Country/Western music. They remind me I can't knock what I haven't heard! The team still scolds me for "experiments" left in the breakroom fridge - I promised them a new refridgerator for Christmas this year. It's the least I can do!

Catherine was with me the day of surgery. I didn't ask her to come, but, being the wonderful friend she is, she was there anyway. Of course, that meant she got to share the bad news when the surgeon was done. She didn't say much, just listened while I bemoaned my own stubborness and my genetic shortcomings. I know she was upset and angry, but she never let on. She took on my burdens at work and helped settle my personal life. She and Sara fought tooth and nail to save my job for me, even though it meant a lot more work for them.

So that brings me to where I stand today. Preparing to give the commencement address at Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C. They've offered me a position at the university, working to set up a co-op program in Forensics with the Commonwealth of Virginia and the F.B.I. laboratories at Quantico. I'll most likely agree to take the appointment. It will finally give Catherine the promotion she deserves and the job she has been doing for the past three years anyway. Sara has been offered the corresponding position in Richmond and will take it if I accept Dr. Gilbert's offer. It's one of those unexpected turns that life takes, but I think it will turn out to be a good one.

Part 2: Moving Forward

Seems strange, I've been keeping this journal for over a year now. When Dr. Phillips suggested it, I was reluctant. Convinced I didn't need a "coping mechanism" to help me deal with the deafness. Hell, I'd lived with the possibility my whole life. He agreed, but insisted the reality would be different and I might be glad some day, to be able to look back on how far I had traveled. I still wasn't convinced. Dr. Edelman had insisted, as a condition of my release after the failed surgery, that I speak with a psychologist about the adjustments I would have to face. I was barely civil to the man, now that I look back. Luckily he didn't hold my attitude against me.

It was extremely surprising to see Brian Mobley. No one expected him to come to a farewell party for the two biggest thorns in his side, but he did.

The party was in full swing when Brian arrived. Doc, Jim and I were plastered. Sara told me I was a funny drunk. Frankly, I don't remember much. Susan Robbins says I'm forgiven for getting her husband tanked, but I'd better not do it again any time soon! I'm sure there was more to what she said, but Catherine chose only to sign what was "acceptable" in polite company. Brian took me aside and told me how much he would miss our "interactions". I took that to be a good thing. While I could never do the "politics" of the job well, it's nice to know the higher-ups thought I did the "meat" of the job well.

When I handed in my request for a Leave of Absence, he seemed genuinely sorry. Told me that we may have had our differences, but he knew the way I did my job I would never "fudge" the evidence or the truth. Said he could trust anything I ever said or did. Told me he hoped Sara and I would come back at the end of the requested time off. Don't know if we will, but it's nice to know that door isn't closed

Having to rely on others because of my deafness has been a mixed blessing. It meant I got to know more people at the crime lab, and they, me. But it made leaving a little harder. Everyone accepted my limitations and made the little (and large) accommodations without question. In a new place, I have to find my own way, and have to ask for the help I'll need. God knows I have a difficult time asking for help, even from those closest to me. How will I manage it when we move East. The University won't be the problem. It's the crime labs that will be difficult.

Oh sure, I've worked with these particular labs in the past, but mainly all they have to go on is my reputation. Someone (translate that as Sara) will have to come with me in the beginning to explain things, translate, smooth over things until I'm comfortable there. It's not something I want Sara to do, but try and tell her that! I wanted to hire a translator - she nixed that rather quickly. Funny, she didn't mind "sharing" me with Greg, but I guess habits do die hard and she isn't yet comfortable enough to have me get close to a stranger.

It isn't lack of trust - Sara knows there is no one else in the world I would ever want. It's more a case of having worked so hard to get me to open up to her, she's not willing to risk any one else enjoying that priviledge until they've proven themselves to her. Weird. She spent years trying to get "in" and now want to close the door firmly behind her!

My deafness has been quite a challenge for Sara. It made her reach out for support, for answers, for solutions. It hasn't been easy for her. She was jealous of Catherine and angry at me for closing her off from what I was dealing with. Catherine was the one to break the news to her about the failed surgery. They don't talk about that conversation - ever. I think they almost came to blows, but I'll never know for sure. Whatever happened, Sara stormed into my hospital room, Dr. Gilbert in tow, to give me a rather severe tongue lashing, regularly flashing the only sign she knew - "Asshole". I still chuckle thinking about it. She made her point. By the time I left the hospital 6 days later - complications - she had moved into my home and my heart for good.

I can only begin to imagine how difficult it was for Sara to open up to Dr. Gilbert, but she did it - for me. She learned about how being deaf can make you fear the dark - when you close your eyes, the world evaporates and all your 'monsters' come out. How it's hard to be intimate with all the lights on and impossible with all the lights off. We laugh now about buying stock in a candle manufacturing company - we must burn several dozen a week, but it solves a few problems...

Computers and TTD's are useful, but you never know who is actually "answering" My mother had an entire conversation once about an insurance matter before realizing she was talking to the switchboard operator! Sara handles most of the household communications - from the lawn service guy to the electrician and contractor who keep our old house standing.

I know this sounds like I don't actually do anything but teach and train, but I try to shoulder some of the responsiblities. I can still cook, of course I needed a special timer, and laundry isn't much of a challenge, nor is washing a floor or making a bed. Still, much of the 'adult' responsibilities fall to Sara to handle. She never complains.....OK, she complains, but it's always good-natured.

She took some time off before starting at the Richmond crime lab - time to get me settled and secure, time to start a support group for hearing spouses of deaf mates, time to get pregnant and have our son, time to be "Mommy". It's another thing she does amazingly well. She finally took the job offer when Will turned 2. By that time I had "found" my way - in the labs and classrooms, the Washington/Virginia/Maryland geographic area, and my new life.

Part 3: Thinking Back

Like most kids, I didn't pay much attention to the "atmosphere" in the house. If I had, I might have noticed my father getting louder and louder. But there were trees to climb and bugs to watch, bike paths that called to me and the library to nourish me. If I had paid attention, I might have noticed that my dad's trips became more frequent, and lasted longer and longer. But there was the beach to roam and shells to collect, fish to watch and crabs to chase. If I had been older, I would have noticed my mother withdrawing from interactions. She sent me to the store, the cleaners, and the market. I thought I was so cool, doing stuff that the older kids did.

By the time I realized what was coming, it was already here. My father was gone and my mother was deaf. I felt bad about the things she would miss, like music and birds singing, the ocean's roar and the crackle of fire. She didn't seem to mind, but I heard her crying one night, late. I knew then that I had to be good, be the best, to make up to her for all she had lost. Like most Catholic kids my age, I knew it was my fault. God punishing my mom for all the things I messed up.

Father Tim tried to help me see that God doesn't work that way, but I just knew it was my fault. I knew, then, that no matter what happened, I couldn't let anyone else go deaf because of me. Couldn't risk being hurt by someone leaving me because I was going to go deaf some day too.

Of course, I'm an adult now. I know that isn't true. But, somehow, as my own hearing deteriorated, I tried to "negotiate" with God. It is, apparently, a common phenomenon. People faced with difficulties try to bargain them away even as they come to terms with the problem. Meg told me once (Meg is my current therapist) she spent the drives to and from therapy for her young son, negotiating with God that he be anything but retarded. But, when the time came to "face facts", she was ready for the diagnosis. I guess I was too.

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Leaving Las Vegas was hard. We had really good friends there, but I couldn't continue to hold Sara or Catherine back. We've been back many times since, for Catherine and Warrick's wedding, Nick and Michelle's wedding, Lindsey's High School graduation and Doc's retirement. (I got him tanked again - this time Sara translated Susan's tirade, and she didn't 'soften' it, either! I didn't know either woman knew those words! She did forgive me, but it took a dozen roses and the promise to house their middle daughter for a semester.)

Of course, they've visited us too. Greg liked it here so much, he moved here to join me teaching at Gallaudet. He met Heidi here and we wound up with a houseful for their wedding.

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When we moved East eight years ago, Sara found Meg to take over where Dr. Gilbert had left off ~ mentoring Sara though the landmines of life in the deaf community. Over time, Meg mentored me too. Didn't realize I'd needed it, but was so grateful when she stepped in. She was a godsend when Katie was born 6 week early. Sara was too ill to consult with the doctors and I was too worried to pay attention. Thanks to Meg, we got through and Katie, now getting ready to celebrate her first birthday, is fine, although she does wear a hearing aide. Her big brother is so jealous. We have to keep an eye on him - he tries to stick a lego block in his ear to pretend he has a hearing aide too! He may need one in the distant future, but that's a long way off yet. If his hearing goes at about age 40, as it seems to in my family, I won't be here to help him as my mother was for me. But he won't be alone. Sara will make sure of that!

I hate that my mother lives so far away, but she's happy. She gets to see her grandchildren several times a year, but I wish it was more. She and Sara have a wonderful relationship. I think I'm a little jealous of it. Sara tells me that Mom has a 'gentleman friend'. I don't believe it, but Sara just smiles and nods. Tells me I'm "in denial" and to just "get over it!" She's right as usual.

END PART 3