An interesting thing happened today. While listening to Chopin’s Etude in G-flat major on my work computer, my CI battery died. Abruptly. Whatever the reason – that it didn’t charge correctly, that its life is diminishing with use – the result was silence. Total and uncompromising, where piano chords had rolled only an instant before.
My reaction was ironic – and, I soon found, amusing. Stupid, stupid battery! I was enjoying that song! Now I have to wait hours to hear again! Why couldn’t you wait until I had a spare? [Prod, shake, shake, shake, tap, frown.] Ha, I would never have felt this way several weeks ago, when all I wanted to do was tear the CI off.
What arose, this time, was a sudden feeling of being severed from part of my world. How dependent I’ve become on a battery and a bit of silicon. I still had my hearing aid in my right ear, of course, but it was comparatively useless. I sat at my desk, expecting to hear the sounds I’ve learned since the end of June, the sounds I’ve come to take for granted. They were not there. Or, they were still there somewhere, but not for me. What I could hear was muffled and diminished, rather than sharp and bold. My surroundings, besides what I could immediately see and touch, seemed detached. Even in my quiet office, I’ve grown used to hearing people walking down the hallway, the air conditioning humming, fax machines and printers whirring, phones ringing, vacuum cleaners roaring. The world living, moving, thrumming. Now, without sound, it was as if that world had retreated, leaving me sitting alone inside my own mind.
This, I thought, is the way it used to be. This was my reality. Amazing, just how much the CI has embedded itself into my experience and my expectations. Though silence is fine with me during intentionally solitary moments, I’ve come to crave sound. Anything less is disappointing.
And it’s only been two months!
Showing posts with label hearing aid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hearing aid. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Ode to a Hearing Aid
Today is my last day with a hearing aid in my left ear. Ever.
I don't know why that makes me sad. Perhaps it's because, for me, hearing aids symbolize my perception of my own identity. Even though their feeble magnification will likely quail before the power of the implant, I'm just not me without them. Though I've never liked seeing them in pictures, and though I was once too young and insecure to flaunt them in public with my hair up, accepting them was part of developing my self-confidence. My coming of age, so to speak.
Plus, I know them inside and out. I have learned over the course of 20 years how to tweak, troubleshoot, and function with them deftly and without thought. I know when that odd sound comes from a low battery, or when it's because I have fluid in my earmold tubes, or when my own ears are stuffed up. I have dropped them more times than I can remember. Putting them in is an automatic motion. My ears get cold without them; I hate feeling the breeze blow through my ear canal. I walk around my room with them dangling from the curve of my finger. I turn them off and on, floating in and out of silence, with total ease.
Getting the CI is an exciting upgrade, but it's also a sudden change to a device I do not know. And, while my hearing aids are extraneous to my body, my CI will be inside me. I wonder after its power over my abilities and my future.
Perhaps, more simply, this is the end of an era.
So, even though today was a day full of activity, it was also a day of grieving. My left hearing aid has been squealing loudly since I put in this morning - it just needs a new earmold, but I like to think that it's protesting. Tomorrow, I put it in a box and shelve it forever.
Today was my pre-op appointment with the surgeon, which made the reality sink in like it never has before. Sitting here in a coffee shop, done with school and moved out of my room, I feel the calm before the storm. Even through that calm (which is surprising), my thoughts only spill out as a jumble.
- Nurses, even the ones supposedly trained to interact with deaf patients (after all, wasn't this one in a CI office?), really aren't up to speed. Really. This one looked down at her clipboard and mumbled the entire time. Argh.
- Taking so much biology in college has toughened me up! I didn't get queasy when the surgeon went through the necessary disclosure of risks - piercing facial nerves, et cetera. Didn't even shudder when they talked about IV needles. Wow, big step there.
- I do not like hospitals or doctors, but honestly - the Stanford hospital is gorgeous. Parts are more like a floral garden or art gallery than a hospital at all. It was a rather cheerful place to be, until I remembered why I was there or noticed the signs pointing to the cancer or cardiovascular ward, the patients dragging their IV stands around in blue cotton gowns.
- Following that, I have not been in a hospital for years. I should realize how fortunate I am.
- The anesthesiologist sat down and asked, "Can you hear me all right like this?" No, no, no. I'm reading your lips, don't you understand? If I could hear you all right, I wouldn't be here.
- Strangest moment of the day: when the doctors insisted that I get a pregnancy test, just to be sure. I know it's protocol, but anyone who knows me would laugh and ask, Um, really?
- It's been very tempting, in making this decision, to think, Okay, hearing world, I give in. You've won. But that's not the way it is. I can only imagine what I stand to gain. And it really isn't about hearing or deaf at all, in the end.
- A source of minor stress: my surgery was unexpectedly shifted from its 7:30am timeslot to 12:30pm, which I'm not altogether happy about. First of all, I'm not allowed to eat (or drink) after midnight tonight. Meaning that, by 10:30am when I enter the hospital, I could be decidedly grumpy, and there's nothing like anxiety on an empty stomach. And I'd rather get this over with. But, on the positive side, I don't have to be at the hospital at 5:30am!
- Finally, I have some of the most amazing friends in the world. Seriously. Send me your prayers, positive thoughts, and good vibes tomorrow. It's just beginning.
I don't know why that makes me sad. Perhaps it's because, for me, hearing aids symbolize my perception of my own identity. Even though their feeble magnification will likely quail before the power of the implant, I'm just not me without them. Though I've never liked seeing them in pictures, and though I was once too young and insecure to flaunt them in public with my hair up, accepting them was part of developing my self-confidence. My coming of age, so to speak.
Plus, I know them inside and out. I have learned over the course of 20 years how to tweak, troubleshoot, and function with them deftly and without thought. I know when that odd sound comes from a low battery, or when it's because I have fluid in my earmold tubes, or when my own ears are stuffed up. I have dropped them more times than I can remember. Putting them in is an automatic motion. My ears get cold without them; I hate feeling the breeze blow through my ear canal. I walk around my room with them dangling from the curve of my finger. I turn them off and on, floating in and out of silence, with total ease.
Getting the CI is an exciting upgrade, but it's also a sudden change to a device I do not know. And, while my hearing aids are extraneous to my body, my CI will be inside me. I wonder after its power over my abilities and my future.
Perhaps, more simply, this is the end of an era.
So, even though today was a day full of activity, it was also a day of grieving. My left hearing aid has been squealing loudly since I put in this morning - it just needs a new earmold, but I like to think that it's protesting. Tomorrow, I put it in a box and shelve it forever.
Today was my pre-op appointment with the surgeon, which made the reality sink in like it never has before. Sitting here in a coffee shop, done with school and moved out of my room, I feel the calm before the storm. Even through that calm (which is surprising), my thoughts only spill out as a jumble.
- Nurses, even the ones supposedly trained to interact with deaf patients (after all, wasn't this one in a CI office?), really aren't up to speed. Really. This one looked down at her clipboard and mumbled the entire time. Argh.
- Taking so much biology in college has toughened me up! I didn't get queasy when the surgeon went through the necessary disclosure of risks - piercing facial nerves, et cetera. Didn't even shudder when they talked about IV needles. Wow, big step there.
- I do not like hospitals or doctors, but honestly - the Stanford hospital is gorgeous. Parts are more like a floral garden or art gallery than a hospital at all. It was a rather cheerful place to be, until I remembered why I was there or noticed the signs pointing to the cancer or cardiovascular ward, the patients dragging their IV stands around in blue cotton gowns.
- Following that, I have not been in a hospital for years. I should realize how fortunate I am.
- The anesthesiologist sat down and asked, "Can you hear me all right like this?" No, no, no. I'm reading your lips, don't you understand? If I could hear you all right, I wouldn't be here.
- Strangest moment of the day: when the doctors insisted that I get a pregnancy test, just to be sure. I know it's protocol, but anyone who knows me would laugh and ask, Um, really?
- It's been very tempting, in making this decision, to think, Okay, hearing world, I give in. You've won. But that's not the way it is. I can only imagine what I stand to gain. And it really isn't about hearing or deaf at all, in the end.
- A source of minor stress: my surgery was unexpectedly shifted from its 7:30am timeslot to 12:30pm, which I'm not altogether happy about. First of all, I'm not allowed to eat (or drink) after midnight tonight. Meaning that, by 10:30am when I enter the hospital, I could be decidedly grumpy, and there's nothing like anxiety on an empty stomach. And I'd rather get this over with. But, on the positive side, I don't have to be at the hospital at 5:30am!
- Finally, I have some of the most amazing friends in the world. Seriously. Send me your prayers, positive thoughts, and good vibes tomorrow. It's just beginning.
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