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So the doctors has found a cause for my speech disability and it's dysarthria and TMJ disorder! It makes sense to why I am semi-nonverbal since the muscles that produces speech is very weak and painful when controlling it which is why I slur my speech and stuttering! Because of this challenges, I am semi-nonverbal as described from my doctors. (The doctors put semi-nonverbal in my medical documents)
The reason why semi-nonverbal label is accurate to my experiences is that I am actually nonverbal as my normal state consistently as usual growing up! Meaning, yes, I do happen to face the similar obstacles and challenges that comes with being nonverbal but with very very limited speech when made to talk, hence falling in the middle of a constant state of being nonverbal with an optional ability for limited speech however this description is very very unique to my own since it's not the conventional nonverbal and semiverbal experience.
I am a full-time aac user for nearly a year now and it does comes with few challenges! Since being nonverbal with limited speech hence being semi-nonverbal, people do misunderstand me all the time and it's frustrating when you can't speak and when your AAC doesn't work XC. I use gestures and grunts sounds like "hmm" to get people's attention or to communicate. I do use my AAC everyday in every time I communicate and when I can't communicate, I just can't! People are very accepting with AAC but they get frustrated at me! It's difficult to talk because of dysarthria and TMJ! My family is very understanding and supportive so I'm fine using AAC around them :D.
I just learn to adapt to being semi-nonverbal and accept that it's just who I am now and my journey will continue!
"I can't stop playing video games I'm so paralyzed" vs my mouth and face are slowly paralyzing themselves because my immune system won't stop attacking my cranial nerves. I gag and choke on everything I swallow including my own saliva- this is dangerous. I drool, both in my sleep and when I'm awake. I slur my speech which makes people think I am drunk. I have strabismus.
Something was left out of my recent introduction and I did so on purpose. Not because I am ashamed of it — very much the opposite. I have a
I have dysarthria, a motor speech disorder caused by my cerebral palsy. According to the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association, dysarthria occurs because “the muscles of the mouth, face, and respiratory system may become weak, move slowly, or not move at all after a stroke or other brain injury.” My “other brain injury” was my premature birth. At the top of the list of symptoms of dysarthria is slurred speech. The most common activity society associates with slurred speech is being drunk. The fact that I am also Irish does not help matters.
If someone cannot speak properly and they are not drunk, then the other “reasonable” explanation is that there must be some issue with their intellect. While in some cases, that may be true, it is ridiculously unfair to blanket that assumption to every speech impediment. Many people with dysarthria are quite intelligent.
People are so accustomed to the natural development of speech that it is taken for granted. But in fact, it is a skill learned and developed over a lifetime. However, just like tomorrow is never an iron clad guarantee, neither is the mastery of speech. The ability to speak can be taken away at any time -- just ask most anyone who has had a stroke. I personally do not take speech for granted. That is because I have to earn it day in and day out.
The taunt that I hear most often is the classic one, a word that virtually everyone with disabilities gets called at one time or another. I have been called the R word so many times because of my speech, it no longer phases me -- but that does not mean the sting has been taken out of it. The R word is as hateful as the N word.
Despite the taunts, my speech accent has never impelled me to hide or be quiet. Public speaking is one of my skills and I am often asked to do so. I enjoy it and by putting myself out there, I am helping to dispel people's knee jerk reaction to speech impediments. After a few minutes of hearing me, ears adjust to the rhythm of my voice and the passion comes through, illuminating the topic I am speaking on. One could say that I was born for the stage, even with my accent.
saiki with dysarthria who stopped speaking verbally because he got mocked in elementary school by his classmates (and kunihara 100%). so after the incident which was worse because he was being bullied along with asumi, he stopped speaking and decided to just use hypnosis and telepathy :[
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A commission for @mxnsterbabe​​! After getting sick from drinking contaminated water, the reader comes home to find the plumber fixing the water problem. Please reblog and leave feedback!
The Willowridge Masterlist
Moving to Willowridge hadn’t been your first option, but it was the only one that made financial sense. You were going to school at E.U. for business management, but Coleville was just too expensive, even living in the dorms, so you transferred to the Willowridge campus. There was an apartment complex with plenty of studio apartments for the college kids, and you rented the only ground floor apartment they had left. There was a trade-off, of course. You didn’t have to climb up and down seven flights of stairs every day because the elevator was perpetually broken, but you did hear every argument, party, and session of loud sex your neighbors decided to have.
Well, college life was college life, regardless of where you lived.
The only real problem was that the water was an odd color and tasted funny, and before your first day in your new place was over, you were in the hospital for suspected salmonella poisoning. You were in the hospital for over two days, and when you were released, there was a large stranger in your apartment, looking under your kitchen sink.
“Excuse me,” You said in alarm.
The stranger jumped and hit his head on the cabinet, swearing and dropping a wrench. He stood up, and you could see he was wearing a workman’s jumpsuit. You were suddenly confronted with a solid wall of man, easily seven feet tall, with a broad… everything. He was a troll, you realized, and judging from the dusty, pebbly texture of his skin to the tusks jutting out from his lower jaw to the hair like green moss that curled around his ears, he was a field troll.
Trolls were distantly related to orcs, though they didn’t have the same warrior culture as orcs did, if you recalled correctly. They were typically creatures of nature, keeping to the forests and mountains, often seen as slow or stupid. You weren’t sure if those claims were true or not. You’d met a few before, and they seemed normal to you.
“Sorry,” He said very slowly, his voice deep. “Are you… the one… that… got sick?”
“Yes,” You replied, coming inside the apartment but leaving the door open. “And who are you?”
“Sorry,” He repeated. “I’m Geteb. I’m the… plumber… for the building. I came to… fix the pipes.”
“Oh,” You said. “What was wrong with them?”
“The pipe… that p--pulls water…. from the city… broke… and street water… got in it,” He replied in the same slow cadence. “That’s why you… got sick. Your apartment is… the first in the line. When you… got s--sick, we shut it… off. We only just now… turned it back on.”
“Well, I guess it’s good no one else got sick, then,” You said, trying not to come across as bitter.
“I’m sorry… you did,” He said solemnly, though it was an odd sound, like a puppy whimpering after being scolded. “I… b--brought you… clean water.” He pointed to several jugs of water that were stacked along the wall in the kitchen area.
You nodded numbly. “Oh.”
“Just in case. We’re flushing… the system… now. I was just… checking the water… in the tap… to make sure it’s clean.” He held up a cotton swab that was inside a tube. “It’s a test, see? If it’s blue… then it’s con…” He stopped and struggled with the word. “Co... conta…taminated. But it’s not, see!” He held out the test swab for you to inspect. “So it’s all safe. But you should… drink the jug water… just in case.”
“Okay,” You said tiredly. “Well, if you’re done, I’d like to lie down. I still don’t feel very well.”
“Oh, okay,” He said, picking up his tools. “I hope you… feel better… soon. Call the front office… if anything is wrong… and I’ll come back… and fix it… any time.”
“Sure,” You said, ushering him out of the door.
You spent the next couple of days in bed, unable to eat. You managed a few sips of tea, but there wasn’t much else that your stomach could tolerate. As suggested, you drank the water from the jugs that Geteb had brought, but mostly because you just didn’t trust the tap water anymore.
Three days afterward, when you were finally starting to feel better, there was a knock at the door. Geteb was standing there in his work clothes with three more jugs of water in each fist.
“I brought you… m--more water,” He said.
“Oh,” You said in surprise. “Okay. Uh, bring them in.”
You stepped aside and let Geteb in, who had to duck to clear the doorframe.
“I’m sorry if I was rude the other day,” You told him. “I didn’t even really thank you.”
“It’s okay! I understand!” He replied. “You felt bad. I’m cranky… when I feel bad… too.”
“I just hope I’m well enough to continue classes next week,” You said.
He chuckled. “School was fun. I remember college. Lots of parties.”
He seemed to be better at speaking short sentences. “You went to college?” You said in surprise.
“Yes,” He said reproachfully, looking hurt. “I know… I’m not that smart… but I’m s--smarter… than people think. Just because… I’m big… and I talk slow… and I have trouble… with big words… it doesn’t mean… I’m stupid.”
Horrified, you said, “Oh, no, I didn’t mean…” But then you stopped. That’s exactly what you meant, and you knew it. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for, and I apologize.”
His frown melted, and he smiled. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”
“What did you get your degree in?”
“S--struc…tural engin…eering.”
“Oh, wow,” You said. “That’s really impressive.”
He chuckled again. “Lots of people… don’t believe me… when I tell them… I h--have a… Bachelor’s degree.”
“Well, they’re idiots,” You said. “Listen, can I buy you a drink? To thank you and make up for being a rude asshole.”
His face lit up. God, he reminded you of a puppy. “Okay! I’d like to. I should… change clothes, I’m really dirty.”
“Aren’t you still on the clock?” You asked.
He stopped and thought about it. “Oh. Yeah. Later then?”
It was your turn to chuckle. “Later then.”
He met you after work at a local college pub and you bought him a round. Well, a pitcher for him. He had big hands.
“So, I don’t want to offend you, and I’m trying hard not to be an asshole, but can I ask something?”
“You… want to know… why I… talk so slow?” He asked with a patient smile.
“Yeah,” You replied hesitantly. “I’ve seen other trolls and they don’t talk like you do.”
“I have… dysarthria,” He said. “I had a… really bad ear… infection… when I was… s--seven… and it turned into… men…ingitus… and caused… a stroke. I was… in… a coma for… a while after.”
“Oh, god,” You breathed. “I had no idea you could have a stroke from an ear infection.”
“It’s rare,” He said. “I’m special… like that, I guess.”
You smiled at him. “How long were you in school?”
“The standard… four years,” He replied. “And then another… four years… app…p--prentice for the… plumbing job. T--that’s a long time… for people… to still think… I’m stupid.” He didn’t seem angry about it, just resigned.
“You’re definitely not stupid, Geteb,” You told him.
“It’s not just… the talking,” He said, gesturing at his mouth. “People… look down on… labor jobs. Just because… we work with… our hands… and get d--dirty… doesn’t make it… less… of a skill.”
“You’re absolutely right,” You replied sadly. “And it’s a shame people are like that.”
“You’re not… like that, are you?” He asked you.
“No, Geteb, I’m not,” You told him. “My dad was a carpenter. I know all about how difficult working with your hands can be.”
“That’s good,” He said. “Because… I’d like to… take you out again. My treat… this time.”
Your smile widened. “I’d like that very much.”
You went on several dates with Geteb. Because he was such a big guy, a lot of them were outdoors or in places that were wide open, like museums or aquariums. He liked looking at things and letting you talk, shy about talking in public or around a group of strangers. He was already unusual, and his speech impairment made him stand out even more.
Despite dating for almost a month, he still hadn’t kissed you yet, and you wondered why. You knew he was shy, but you’d been more than affectionate with him, so he had to know you wanted him to. Maybe you’d just have to do it yourself.
At the end of the next date, you said, “Bend down.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s hard to kiss you when you’re way up there,” You said, laughing.
He didn’t laugh. Instead, he sighed heavily.
“Do you not want to kiss me?” You asked him, teasing.
“It’s not that,” He replied seriously. “I do… v--very much… but if I… kiss you… that means… something to me…”
“It means something to me, too, silly,” You said. “It means I like you.”
“It means… more than that… to me.” He asked. “I’m… never going… to be normal… you know that… don’t you? I can’t… fix this.” He gestured at his mouth and head. “Kissing me… after so many dates… means… you’re commit…ting… to that… reality. Are you sure… you can… do that?”
“It’s not like kissing you means we’re getting married, Geteb,” You said, your brow furrowing. “It doesn’t bother me how you talk.”
“It doesn’t… right now,” He said. “But what… about in a… month? Or five? What about… when your friends… say something… or a stranger says something… that makes you… uncomfortable with… the idea… of being… with me. You may be… able… to tolerate it… now, but you… may not… be able to… forever.”
“Geteb, don’t be silly,” You said, frowning. “If someone has something to say about it, I’ll bite their ears off. And if my friends have something to say about it, I’ll get better friends. It’s that simple.”
“For you,” He said, looking away, and you took his face in your hands.
“Has something like that happened before?” You asked.
He frowned and looked at his feet. “I almost… g--got married once,” He told you. “I bought… the ring and… everything… but b--before… I could ask her… w--we got in a fight… she said… she always ha--hated… how I talked. After we… calmed down… s--she said… she didn’t m--mean it… but that’s all… I could think… about when I… t--talked to her… so I stopped… talking… and we b--broke up…” He sniffled a little. “I still… have the… ring. I couldn’t… bring myself… to return it. I didn’t want p--people… to be sad… for me. I was already… sad enough.”
“I’m so sorry, Geteb,” You said, stroking a thumb down his cheek. “Even if what she said was true, I’m not her. I love the way you talk. I can understand you perfectly fine. All it takes is listening, and I’m more than willing to do that.”
His expression looked so pained. “Are you… sure?”
Instead of answering, you turned the key in the lock of your front door, opened it, and pulled him inside.
“Let me show you,” You said. He gulped and allowed himself to be led.
Inside, you had him sit down on the pull-out couch-bed and sat in his lap. He carefully placed a hand on your lower back, as if testing the waters. You laughed softly and leaned against his body, laying your head on his chest.
“Isn’t this nice?” You asked him.
“Very,” He said, his lips in your hair. Not quite a kiss, was it was contact. “I have missed… holding someone… I have been… lonely… I guess…”
“I’m not surprised,” You said. “That’s kind of what happens when you try to keep people at an arm’s length.”
“I don’t mean to,” He said. “I just don’t… want people… to be hurt… because of me.”
“And you don’t want to get hurt, either,” You said, sitting up and looking at him. “I totally get that, Geteb. That’s a natural reaction when you’ve been hurt. I’ve been hurt too. You think my parents took it well when I told them I was non-binary? Or my boyfriend? Sorry, ex-boyfriend, because he can’t be with someone--excuse me, something--who isn’t a girl, which…” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I know it’s not the same as having a lifelong, debilitating condition that people don’t understand, I do get that. What I’m saying is that in some ways, I completely understand what you’re going through. And I want to go through it with you.”
“You’re sure?” He asked again.
“Yep,” You said. “You’re stuck with me, pal, like it or not.”
“I like it,” He said, smiling.
“Good,” You said, standing up so that you could be eye level and wrapping your arms around his neck. “I like it, too.” Then you kissed him. It was long and leisurely, not pressing him too hard if he didn’t want to go there yet.
Acceptance is a funny, powerful thing. It gives confidence to the meek, solace to the troubled, and in this instance, it made him very, very aroused. You could feel it the moment you climbed into his lap and straddled him. His hands gripped you more firmly and his kisses deepened. The tip of his large, broad tongue brushed across your lips, and you opened your mouth so that he could slip it inside, tangling with your own.
You kissed down his body, opening the button-up shirt and pulling it out of his pants. His jeans were tented, and you thought it might be painful, so you popped the button and unzipped the sipper, stroking him through his underwear, and he moaned.
“You don’t… have to…” He said between gasps.
“I want to,” You said, kneeling down. You opened the slit in his underwear and freed him, swirling your tongue around him. He grunted and his hips bucked upward involuntarily.
“It’s been… a long time…” He said. “I’m a… little… sensitive…”
“I’ll be gentle,” You said, and pulled him slowly into your mouth. A long groan of satisfaction issued from him, and you figured you were doing alright.
It didn’t take long before he was writhing under your touch, panting and gasping. He was throbbing inside your mouth, but before he came, he lay a hand on your shoulder to stop you.
“Can you… get undressed… please? I want… to look at you,” He asked, heaving in deep breaths. You obliged, making a little bit of a show of it. He watched you hungrily, and when you were fully nude, he reached out for you. You climbed back into his lap, and he caressed your body, kissing your neck and shoulders. You rose up and positioned him at your entrance and slowly, carefully, slid down on him.
You kissed him deeply as he grasped your hips, bouncing you a little. You braced your hands on his chest and came down harder on him, making your bodies slap together. You threw your head back and he kissed your throat, his tusks poking into the skin, his hand in your hair.
“I’m… close…” He wheezed.
“Me too,” You whimpered, speeding up. You felt the rush of pleasure hit your body just as he abruptly pulled you up and came all over your thighs and his jeans.
“Sorry,” He said as you collapsed onto his chest.
“It’s okay,” You panted. He held you close until you got your breath back. “You can use my mini washing machine to clean your clothes. I don’t have a dryer, though, so you’ll have to stay until they dry. It could take a while.”
“I d--don’t mind,” He said. “I can sleep… on the floor… if that’s okay.”
“I’ll make us a nice pillow fort,” You said. “Good thing it’s the weekend. We can just stay in our fort and order out and be naked the whole time.”
“The best weekend… ever.”
“Yes, it does. And we can do it every weekend from now on. What do you think?”
“I think… that sounds like… heaven.”
You stood up and dragged him to his feet. “Shower first.”
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