Excerpt from Confetti and Ashes: Reflections on Wellness by Shahd Alshammari
When I tried to tell Captain Ameen about my MS, I began by writing a message to send it. It was easier to do this via texting as I couldn't imagine explaining MS to him face to face. I wrote a long, elaborate message and deleted it multiple times. "Hi, Captain; thanks for agreeing to help me out. I have a problem; I have this condition where I am slower than everyone else, can't really feel my legs, and have no muscle strength. I don't want to disappoint you…" I ended up deleting the message and rephrasing it until I finally told him that even if he hadn't heard about MS, he could read about it because he had probably never trained someone like me. I hoped he would understand, I said.
He read the message and typed back, "No worries." As simple as that. I decided to talk to him again when I saw him for our next class. He was waiting at the court by 5 PM, straight after work. He smiled and asked me how work went, and I told him that I loved teaching but would get really exhausted after hours of speaking. Speech was still one of the hardest things for me. My vocal chords always hurt after class and I felt drained. And yet I was here, standing in front of him, about to tell him that MS meant I would never be like the others. I didn't want him to think he could turn me into another Noor.
"So, really, I used to use a wheelchair for a while. I still use a cane, and I have this Pilates machine at home that I use to help me feel better. But the problem is that my brain sends slower signals to the rest of my body. I could tell my brain to lift my arm, but it won't do that. It's random; sometimes it listens, and sometimes it doesn't. There's not much I can do about it," I said as I was tying my shoes, avoiding looking at him. This was always the worst part of getting to know people. Everyone needed an explanation.
“Okay. Are you ready to play?” he asked, moving into the court.
It was a bizarre reaction. I didn't know whether to feel angry at his complete dismissal of my dilemma and my feelings. I was vulnerable and open, yet he was staring at the ball more than he would look my way.
We don’t need him to be your friend. Not everyone is supposed to be a friend. We need technique and skill. This one has both.
I went ahead and followed him into the court. The next two years of my life involved me following him into the court, watching for more moves, but I never imagined that once I walked in, I would never want to walk back out again. I felt like the door to Narnia had finally opened. And he was Aslan, the rightful King of Narnia, the rightful King of Squash.
Book Synopsis
Confetti and Ashes: Reflections on Wellness is a speculative memoir that questions what it means to live a good life. Blending personal experiences with the voices of ghosts and a seductive Qareen, this is a meditative exploration of consciousness and the liminal spaces we exist in. As a passionate Squash player, the narrator delves into the transformative power of sports. This lyrical narrative is genre-defying, refusing to adhere to conventional ways of narrating stories we carry within our bodies. Multi-layered and in many voices, this is a narrative of memory, disability, and movement.
ISBN: 9789696492160
Publisher: The Literary Mentor Words for Wellness
Author Bio
Shahd Alshammari is Associate Professor of Literature and the author of Head Above Water: Reflections on Illness (Feminist Press, New York) and Notes on the Flesh (Faraxa: Malta). Head Above Water (2022) was longlisted for The BarbellionPrize for writing on illness and disability. Alshammari teaches literature and creative writing in Kuwait.
