This handy concept came along recently to serve as an example to clarify and explain to me my changing interpersonal communications, as well as to serve as another defense mechanism for me in facing the real world.

It Started with an MRI

When first the mechanical conveyor dragged me into the MRI device, I  felt that I was being cut off from the world- isolated.  It was lonely and a bit intimidating at first.  But then it began to feel more relaxing, as though it wasn’t really a bad thing.  Just another expensive time-share vacation spot.

There was a communication circuit, and I know people were studying me- my back, then my neck and my head.  At one point I imagined it to be a large petri dish, but then it wasn’t glass.  It was more like a drink can or a cigar tube.

As it gradually became more comfortable for me, I did not feel so isolated as I did protected, insulated.  But I eventually walked away from that machine and did not give it much more thought in the following weeks while different people tried to make sense of what they had discovered in my head.

Those people decided that certain physical therapies could help some of my difficulties, as well as remedy my sedentary life-style.  So off I went twice a week, working on strengths and weaknesses, balances and imbalances.  The folks who worked with me are great people.

Now my inclination under almost any circumstance is to crack a joke.  I love humor.  It is a defense mechanism for me occasionally.  It is just entertainment sometimes.  I am still trying to accept the fact that there are some people who don’t appreciate my type of humor.  It is hard for me to understand that there are times that some people just are not postured to expect, accept or appreciate any joke.  Sad for me.  Sad for them.

But this is a phenomenon that has been occurring more and more lately with strangers, friends, and even family.  If I am not careful, I could find myself feeling more and more misunderstood and isolated.

A day or two ago, I had made a joke or pun in what evidently seemed to be an odd circumstance for two of the younger people who were working with me.  For the first time I noticed two people talking about me, one helping the other realize I was making a joke.  I wanted to say “hey, I’m right here!  You are taking about me.”

Sadly Withdrawn

It seemed to them I had withdrawn back into my MRI shell and was difficult to communicate with, only speaking in languages garbled to them unless they were standing near the opening at the end of the tube.  This was a strange and uncomfortable feeling to me who had always thought previously that everyone around me could hear and understand me.

I tried to reassure myself that the mental MRI tube was simply imagined by me, and that these two were the only two struggling to see me and understand me.  But then I began to wonder if that that was the way many people perceived me- through a veil, or in a metal tube where they had to stand at just the right opening to hear me.

As I discovered this to be the case with more and more of the world, I would make my metal MRI tube more comfortable to spend time in.  So mentally I kicked the ends out some and enlarged the width. Soon it got big enough for a chair or two and then a bed as well.  And a stove and a refrigerator.  In fact it is starting to look like an Airstream camper!

Communication Window

My comfort allowed for, then I had to improve my ability to communicate with people, so I opened a window.  A window with a wide sort of shelf someone could lean on while they talked with me and be comfortable.  Not unlike a window where some one orders and picks up a hamburger at a food truck.

Soon we were perfect.  I was comfortable, even insulated from the rest of the world when I wanted.  But when there was an order to be placed or picked up, the window could be flung open and we could look at each other, face to face.

As it turns out, I am not only getting used to this, now that I have discovered it to be very worthwhile.  Sometimes I need to get away. In the time it took to write down these seven hundred fifty words, I have had to answer five phone calls and seventeen text messages.  Now people look at me and say, “He’s a shell of his former self.  It’s a shame, but you know he’s in there… and he probably can hear us!”

So next time you need to find me, don’t be surprised if you just find a sign that reads “GONE CAMPING.”