Communication.

Communication. When I was tracheostomized, an awful word but an even worse experience to live (necessary to survive, though) I became mute. For a year only Aiste understood me and, like a sort of secret agent, read my lips, astonishing bystanders. Breathlessness made me listless, lethargic, well… a bit of a jerk, some would say. Normal people being deprived of their voice communicate with their hands to make themselves understood. I’d have loved to ; when I was healthy I did it without realizing it. But moving even a finger was impossible now. I breathed but I had no voice. I’ve always been told I have beautiful eyes, but I would never have thought that one wonderful day they would have saved my life. Yes, because for me communicating is vital. And when I say that I talk to you with my eyes, I’m not speaking methaphorically. To write I use a computer with a eye tracking device : it has a camera pointing towards my eyes and I move a red dot on the letters of a keyboard here, on the screen in front of me. I had to invest time and efforts to learn to use it well (since I had nothing to do, it wasn’t hard to find some free time on my agenda), but now I’m satisfied of my speed of writing. Not only I write but near me I have a laptop that thanks to a special programme allows me to use Internet, answer text messages on my cell phone, read emails… in a word, feel alive. Chantal Borgonovo, Stefano’s wife, who used the same communication system as me, said that Ste wasn’t scared of death, but he was afraid the « bitch » would make him blind. Couldn’t agree more. R.I.P.