Shared Language | The Blue Nib
On the first full day of my husband’s hospitalization in Boston, I walked down a long hallway, searching for his room. I heard him laughing loudly. His voice was booming. I was immediately relieved, because I had gotten ridiculously lost trying to find him in the immensity of the hospital. But I was also perplexed. He is not boisterous, even when he feels well; and he was very unwell. Shawn was only 45-years-old and could run a 5 minute mile. Still, he’d had a shocking heart attack a few days before, after running a 10k race.
I burst into the room nervously, and saw him standing next to his bed, nodding and smiling. On the other side of the room, I saw with whom he was chuckling. A very elderly, sloped-shouldered man sat in a chair, rocking with laughter. They were nodding, clutching their hearts, and yelling back and forth. I had no idea what they were saying, but they seemed to understand each other.
Shawn introduced me to his roommate, Mr. G, who waved to me enthusiastically. I waved back, and looked toward Shawn, confused. “Oh,” he said, very loudly. “Mr. G doesn’t speak much English.”
Just as I was about to tell Shawn that speaking louder was not a successful translation tactic, he explained that Mr. G was also nearly deaf.
Judging by the happy conversation I’d just interrupted, neither lack of a shared…
