Misunderstood

My family has traveled to the country of Panama a few times and made some wonderful memories there. We originally went for Nolan’s stem cell treatments but we also got to see the Panama Canal, ride a boat to feed wild monkeys, and shop in the city on those visits. I’ve written about these things before, but there is one story I’ve never shared. Looking back, I had no idea how a simple misunderstanding woul dchange everything.

One afternoon, we were walking through a mall when I saw a smoothie shop. Now, I should mention that in Panama they don’t typically put ice in drinks, so I hadn’t had a good cold drink since we’d arrived. That cold smoothie looked amazing! 

I walked up to the counter, smiled, and asked the woman if there was milk in the smoothies because I'm lactose intolerant. She smiled back...but looked completely confused. That's when I realized she didn't speak any English. This was common in the area where we stayed. 

I was determined to get my smoothie, so I pulled out the translation app on my phone. I carefully typed in a question, asking if she could make a smoothie without dairy. I turned the screen toward her, and waited. 

She smiled. 

She nodded. 

Success. 

Feeling pretty proud of myself, I placed my order.

Then I watched her pour milk into the blender. . . and my heart sank. 

I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know enough Spanish to explain that she had misunderstood me, and by then the smoothie was already being made. The line behind me was getting longer, and I could just imagine everyone waiting on this tourist with her fancy translation app.

So I did what any awkward, embarrassed person would do. 

I gave her a smile while I paid. 

I thanked her for the ice cold smoothie in my hand. 

And as soon as I turned the corner, I threw it away. 

I was so disappointed that it didn’t work out. But life went on. 

I left the mall thinking about how frustrating it was to know exactly what I wanted to say but not have the ability to make someone else understand me.

Then, my mind went straight to Nolan. 

My frustration lasted five minutes. 

His has lasted a lifetime. 

Nolan can tell me he wants chicken. He can tell me he wants to go for a ride, take a bath, or stop by the store. He tells me when he wants his favorite “rainbow cereal,” or that he is sad. But there are so many things I don’t know. . . 

I don't know if his stomach hurts.

I don't know if he has a headache.

I don't know if he slept well the night before.

I don't know if someone was kind to him at school—or if someone wasn't.

I don't know if he has a best friend.

I don't know what made him laugh today.

I don't know why an hour ago he was all smiles and now he's inconsolable.

Nolan isn’t completely nonverbal. He has some words and for that I am thankful. But he also has apraxia of speech. He knows exactly what he wants to say but somewhere between his brain and his mouth it doesn’t come out the way he intends.

Like a mother to a toddler learning to speak, I understand his language better than most people. But I worry about him when I'm not there. I wonder how many times he tries to tell someone something and isn't understood.

Even I have to  play detective to figure it out myself occasionally.

Many times with autism a person will script. This means Nolan will repeat lines or phrases from TV shows or songs he likes. Is he saying that because it means something? Is it comforting to him? Or does it drive him crazy because he can’t control it? Sometimes it’s impossible to know. 

I felt so helpless trying to communicate with the woman at the smoothie shop. I knew exactly what I wanted to say but I couldn't make her understand.

Thankfully, I got to come home to Mississippi where everyone understands my thick Southern accent.

My prayer is that Nolan grows up surrounded by people who don’t stop listening just because communication looks different.

Maybe that’s why I’m finally sharing the smoothie story all these years later. 

Because being able to speak is something most of us rarely think about. We order food. We tell someone our head hurts. We call a friend to tell them exciting news. We complain when we are tired. We tell the people we love how much we love them. 

We take being understood for granted. 

I know I did. 

I don’t have a neat ending for this story. I still wish I knew what Nolan was thinking at times. I wish he could tell me why he couldn’t sleep last night, what he learned at school, or why today feels so much harder than yesterday.  I wish I knew what was making him laugh or what he wants to do for summer vacation. It breaks my heart that he struggles so much to share these things. 

I don’t know if there’s a lesson here or a way to wrap this up with a pretty bow. I

just know that I listen a little differently now. I try a little harder when I don’t understand. I remind myself that Nolan has thoughts, opinions, feelings, stories, wants, and dreams; even when he can’t easily share them. 

And I’m asking you to do the same. 

Not just for Nolan, but for every person who communicates differently.

Don’t assume that because someone can’t tell you what they’re thinking, they have nothing to say. 

Keep listening.

They deserve to be understood too.