Social life - II

Continuing...

Sex life

I include sex life in the general ambit of social life since it is part of the act of socialising, where socialising is the maintenance of human contact, communicating with the milieu, or seeking distraction or entertainment. In that sense, sex is much the same as going to watch a circus, or taking part in a demonstration to denounce hunger in the third world.

Tongueless wonders can still practise sex though certain practises are just not possible. If you have an understanding partner, who gives sex its due importance, he or she will adapt to your possibilities. If that is your case, pleased to meet you. Kissing, however, (even social kissing) with a saliva-soaked mouth is exceptionally disagreeable even for a most good-willed partner. This assumes you are not menopausal or andropausal, in which case sex is as compelling to you as the life-cycle of a gnat.
Just a small point - such a mammoth surgical intervention would shatter the libido of even the most randy rock star...

Travel

Travel in its best form is a socialising experience. You meet people along the way - and when you get there. You rub up against parallel cultures and face the challenges they pose - language, dress, customs and expectations. And the sights and smells and noises all contribute to your conception of a place, and ignite reactions in yourself and those around you that can unify minds and spirits, which is what socialising is all about (I think). The lack of a tongue can dilute this process, but it does not paralyse it.

The problems are limited to two concrete issues - eating and endurance.

How do you find a sufficient supply of sludge on a plane or a train or in a highway restaurant? There are enough answers to make it worth the effort - take a supply of puré with you, opt for soups and milk products like yoghurts, make primitive purés yourself (for example, drinking chocolate thickened with bread or cake; meat or chicken stock mixed with powdered potato - you can always find a way to heat it up), and lean on the airline/train/hotel staff to meet you half way. There is no way to get round the acrobatics of eating - but you are never going to pass that way again, are you?

A long journey, especially if there is a big off-the-road itinery, can be physically trying even for someone in good physical shape. You are not in good physical condition or, more precisely, you are raked over. There is no real answer to that - if you want it, go for it and suffer the consequences. In theory, they (whoever 'they' may be) will look after you if your strength fails.

Sport

Sport is also a socialising experience if practised in company and in unison with other people.  In another sense it is an element in the social life of many people in that it is practised as  a conduit to a sense of well-being and self-fulfilment, which are the evidence of  a satisfactory social life. However, to engage in any sport requiring physical effort and following-on the massive surgical intervention to which I was subject, is not easy. You lack the strength in arms and legs you had before the surgical intervention (even without a half-metre gash in your right thigh) and your breathing is uneven and forced.  Walking is a healthy alternative to the gym, but swimming is out of the question - you will suck in a litre of pool water per length, unless you can hold your breath for 25 metres. If you want to be pedantic and include chess and darts in the greater-sports category then go ahead - you do not need a tongue to play darts, unless you use it as a sort of direction finder.

However, your physical condition will be much deteriorated. The tumour will have eaten you up quite a bit and, in my case, my food intake was reduced to a minimum two months prior to my operation, due to a progressive lack of articulation in my tongue provoked by the tumour.  Also, during my two weeks' stay in hospital, liquid medicinal food (that is, survival rations)  was pumped into me via a tube that ran from my nose to my stomach (I mean pumped, literally - I was attached to a small electric pump). And, after the recovery of the power of speech, the recovery of my physical condition is the next priority. I want to put on bulk - I should even be quite happy to get fat, though it is difficult to get fat on sludge. I want to be able to wear my clothes again without looking like they were hanging off a peg. I want to be able to put on a spurt to catch the bus, and reach for a book on the top shelf and carry the shopping home without running the risk of dislocating a shoulder. Any self-respecting recovery must, of necessity, pass through a re-instatement of a minimum physical capacity. It is not a question of having a good silhouette (I think that is what men have) or a good figure, though kicking off the emaciated look is part of it; it is about physical commodity - about feeling good with my body, about a body that accompanies my daily tasks instead of impeding them, about a body that is seamlessly attached to my spirit and mind. When the time is right, I intend to install my bed in the gym.


Family and friends
In the final analysis, you can always rely on these last faithful survivors of a behet life - or, more correctly, in any kind of analysis. Your  friends, battered and worn-out after innumerable attemps to invade your space, will accompany you on the road to a workable recovery - mindful of your pride and willfulness. Eduardo, the gentleman-poet, will visit you or you will seek him out and with a quiet patience he will let you range over your favourite subjects of debate, without understanding a word, and he will take only so much before he puts you in your place. Gonzalo, the humanitarian, will fill you with humility as he enthuses about lives he has helped re-construct from the remnants of exile, vagrancy, discrimination and indifference. 'za, who is obsessed with cleanliness, will review the state of your living space with deliberate malice, and then settle down to talk non-stop about what she calls her 'stage in life'. Then Alex will drop in and try to convince you the actual educational system has, despite expert testimony to the contrary, a serious defect - its stinks. And others, numerous to mention, naturally, will confabulate with you the way that you like so that the day is as long or as short as you wish it to be, and your disability is forgotten.