My relationship with my augmentative alternative communication (aac) device is love/hate. I love that I have an alternative form of communication. I see so many people who have lost the ability to speak due to stroke or TBI (traumatic brain injury) and their communication is reduced to head nods or unintelligible sounds. They are so frustrated. And that single word doesn't begin to cover the myriad of emotions that one feels locked within their body. I hate the pace of the communication. It's molasses slow. Even the patience of a saint would be tried! Caregivers and family often forget that I need time to respond. That I'm not ignoring them. I hate that it is not more predictive. I remember how quick I could type and respond pre-illness. And this is painfully slower. Also hate how slow the processor is. For $22,000 one would think you would get a speedy little processor, predictive text, lots of storage, and MS Word, MS Outlook... I mean really!
Orange, gold, rust, burnt sienna, ochre, raw umber; the riot of fall colors, in the trees and at our booted feet; a drive in the countryside; the taste of hot apple cider on my lips; the satisfaction of a truckload of firewood we gathered and cut ourselves; elk herds on the move; hearty stews, savory soup, crusty whole-grain bread, pumpkin and gingerbread spice lattes; these are the memories I tap into the most this time of year. Cabela's fliers in the mailbox; Carhart's camo-clad hunters swarm outlying areas; mushroom garthering; huckleberry picking; logger burgers; forest service roads; cheese sandwiches on the woodstove; warm quilts, cool sheets, and flannel nightgowns; cold butt, warm heart. Immensely grateful to have the well of memories to draw upon.
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