My hands are still shaking, I've poured myself a glass of wine. I tell myself: it's fine, it's not a big deal, just breathe. All those are right except it is a big deal. Right this minute my body is flared up like that feeling you get when you're embarrassed and the heat rises up through your throat, surrounding your neck like a turtleneck of choking shame.
I decided to write in this moment because my body forgot how to cry. I started to cry but then I shut it down with the German efficiency that my German body is trained for.
"Is that the young lady I spoke with on the phone?!" said the chief from the fire department.
No sir, I am the shame-spiraling deaf woman that just wants you to tell me if I should be afraid to go to bed tonight, because I can't sleep well with my hearing aids in and I probably won't sleep well anyway with them out. But sure, patronize me and call it friendliness.
The carbon monoxide alarm went off. I'm at a friend's house, trying to do a writing retreat. What a fantastic idea. I am by myself and I have done so many things by myself. Hell, I flew to Germany and stayed in Berlin a whole week by my fucking self.
And now I'm wondering if I have been so stupid all this time. If the alarm was telling the truth and it went off at night, do you know what would have happened? Death. I mean- not to be dramatic, but I wouldn't have heard the alarm and I would have slept until my body died or woke up with severe enough symptoms.
Right now I'm sitting in the house, doors and windows shut to make sure the false alarm was indeed a false alarm.
When I called the fire department, they answered with quick words, a sense of humor "Your house is on fire?!! Haha- just kidding." I just wanted to feel safe. I'm taking care of three animals that I have no known way of moving and transporting. I can't just leave the house and them.
The first time I called, I thought that the final words were "we're on our way." I heard him say something about 911 and asking me more questions, and I was like- I don't know why he's telling me about this, he's on his way.
I made sure all the windows were open - the cats wouldn't be harmed - and I sat on the front stoop for 30 minutes, missing a meaningful call I had scheduled for myself as part of my self-care for the writing retreat. OH- and the alarm went off during my therapy session and it was my therapist who told me what the alarm was saying.
That's the other thing. When I called they asked me so many questions: how many times did the alarm go off? How frequent and many were the beeps?
I didn't know- a lot?
What did it say?
Something about carbon monoxide?
How do you feel? Do you have a headache? Nausea?
I don't think so. I had a headache earlier. (I almost said- but I'm a 40 year old woman, so that tracks. I didn't.) They don't have a clue that many women feel headaches and nausea intermittently without being poisoned.
I finally went back inside from my front stoop perch after realizing that I was not the top priority. I decided to just wait- but by the window. No writing was being done. I waited, trying to decide if I had a headache or stress. Anxiety or carbon monoxide poisoning.
I finally call back: no one home, voicemail. I left a message. Now I'm afraid they'll hear that message and make fun of it. "That's that woman who was scared of carbon monoxide."
Nothing.
It was two hours past the first call and I knew that I would not be able to sleep at night if no one came to check. If I sleep- I lose consciousness and control. I can't hear. I felt so vulnerable and I absolutely HATE feeling that way.
I called again, this time the jokester picked up. He talked so fast. I told him I had called and no one came out. He said- yeah they came out. Nope, no one did (oh God did I actually miss the fire dept?!). When did I call 911? I didn't- I called you. Then he asks why or something and I said: "I can't hear, I thought the person said they were on their way."
Shame flare is in full force now.
"Where do you live again?" I tell them where I'm staying, it's not my house. More talking, more words, I can't track it, what are they saying? Are they coming? They're talking so fast, I tell them I'm having trouble hearing them.
How do you feel? You've been in the house this whole time? You're probably fine.
I'm fine, I guess, but I've been sitting next to an open window.
Well- if the windows are open, the alarm won't detect anything now!
OH MY GOD, I know, I have cats here that I can't move and I didn't want to endanger them.
If you feel fine, you're probably fine, you can call 911 if you need to.
I don't even know what I said, but I said, I called YOU. I don't know if it's an emergency, I don't want to try and see if I get sick. I can't go to bed tonight with the windows all open and hoping for the best.
Phone shifts. This is the chief, when did you say they came out to your house?
I've been handed off. I'm a problem.
They didn't come out to my house, repeat repeat repeat everything I just said.
He asks more questions: how many times did it beep? Can you hear gas?
I don't know if I made this clear: I CANNOT HEAR.
Ok now, here's what we'll do, I'm just going to come over and check it out myself.
Patronizing, but I am finally getting results.
He pulls up in the fire truck, says his "young lady" comment, I don't give him the smile he was aiming for, and he walks in. He has to repeat himself four times, and I think he is finally understanding that I can't fucking hear. He looks at me when he talks, starts to treat me a little more human. He explains his gas meter, that nothing is detected, and that it's OK. He tells me what to look for and what to do if something happens.
Another man in the group is smiling, almost a snicker, and the chief smiles knowingly back. Like a cute little inside joke they all have about this young lady here.
I can't wait for them to get the fuck out of my face. Thanks so much, bye.
They leave. The door is left wide open.
Tears try to come and they stop, just short. I feel it instead throughout my body as it trembles, flares, tightens, and desires a glass of wine.
I poured myself a glass and tell the universe to shut up if it disapproves. All the windows and doors are shut, the blinds drawn, and I don't even have the satisfaction of a good sob.
I'm scared of what else I am so vulnerable to. I'm mad about that. I'm angry they made me feel silly for needing information, needing to know if I would be OK or not. They don't realize I don't have all my senses available to me. They don't realize I sleep like the dead because of my hearing loss. They don't realize that I just thought about being dead because of my hearing loss.
I feel stupid. Dumb. Vulnerable. Mad. Angry. Pissed. Helpless.
That was my shame flare.
