HeyJaredAllyneTheCoda
Musings about life in a Deaf family, farm life, chanting and meditation, serendipity and the magic of life.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 11
- Latest publication
- Sep 30, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 15, 2026
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THE SIGNAL THAT NEVER TURNED OFF (opens the original)
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The recovery room is meant to hold a patient for a few hours, just until the anesthesia wears off. Then you’re moved to a room with a window, something to lift your spirits.That dark, windowless room became my prison.Every day for five days, I was told no rooms were available. The hospital was full of Covid patients. So I stayed in the dark, and the darkness settled over my emotions. It wasn’t depression, exactly. It was dread, a heavy knowing that my life had been permanently altered.My body re
THE CHOICE WAS LARGER THAN ME (opens the original)
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Spring was nearing, but the early morning still held a cold blanket across our farm. My shivering may have been from the air, but it may also have been the anxiety coursing through my heart and brain. Nothing could convince me I was doing the right thing by facing this surgery. Desperation filled me like icy water rushing through my veins. Why couldn’t I hone in on a concrete decision? Certainly, I had chanted enough hours to find answers. Instead, uncertainty, fear, and oppression filled my min
THE ROAD TO SURGERY (opens the original)
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For the first time, worry crept into my heart, and uncertainty surrounded me. My voice had become almost impossible to hear as the pressure mounted around me to submit to a surgery I did not want. With my body and brain gravely damaged by the intense chemotherapy treatments I had endured, I could barely get through my days, let alone stand up against the people who had decided what was going to happen to my body. My desires no longer seemed to matter. My questions didn’t seem to matter. What I w
NAVIGATING EDUCATION ON THE FRINGE OF A HEARING WORLD (opens the original)
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WOUNDED BY THE HEALERS (opens the original)
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Chemotherapy ended, and I looked forward to a reprieve from doctor’s offices, hospital labs, and sickness caused by the very people and treatments designed to help me. Seven months of anti-cancer drugs infused through my body left me 25 pounds skinnier, and too tired to participate in my daily life. The cognitive dysfunction made it impossible to carry on meaningful conversations. Finding thoughts was impossible. They were there somewhere, but I couldn’t catch them.By now, my daughter was drivin
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