Wacky Wednesday

At the risk of sounding like I'm destined for a Halloween freak show, I'm going to admit to something here: I actually look forward to driving the work van through a car wash. For a mere $3.00 on Wacky Wednesdays, I've paid for a serenade of whistles, wooshes, and whirls that is a celebration of sound.

Did you know that not all drive-thru washes are created equal acoustically? My favorite one is located in a neighboring community. It has more tantilizing high frequency water sounds: more gushes, hisses, spits, splashes, sprays, tinkles, and drizzles. Even the long mop strips and fan blowers have a more soothing sound than the closer Jiffy job in our town.

Yea, I can guess what you are thinking - - - it doesn't take much to keep Sheila entertained. That's true. This condition probably stems from years of loss and deprivation. You see, I can still remember back to those dismal days when a car wash sounded like a dull faint rumble and was always an experience accompanied by an ever-present fear that something might hang up or break down and I'd be forced to talk to an attendant. More accurately, an attendant would have to tap on my window and shout something, and I'd blankly stare back without a clue in the world.

Well, today is Wacky Wednesday. I'm already grinning with anticipation!

Tenth Anniversary

It was ten years ago today (Sept. 19) that Gerry and I pulled away from the curb in front of our Virginia townhouse in the pre-dawn hours on our way to an event that would forever change my life. Yes, a whole decade ago I was clad in one of those non-fashionable surgical gowns and was signing all those anxiety-producing hospital forms that released Johns Hopkins from all liability should anything go wrong. With the exception of local anesthesia for some stitches and novocaine for wisdom teeth extraction, I'd had no experience with hospital meds and had never gone "under the knife". Was I really electing to have a foreign object permanently implanted in the side of my head?!

And as the saying goes . . . and the rest is history. Ten years ago I began this blog as an avenue for recording the impact of my cochlear implant(s) on all aspects of my life. Month after month, year after year I've attempted to share my thoughts about my "rebirth" of sound. My metamorphosis has been an incredible adventure - - - from those painful years of struggle with declining hearing, though the gradual transition from hearing primarily with my eyes to hearing with one-sided electronic circuitry, and then finally to the full spectrum of bilateral sound processing. Writing this journal has given me an outlet for expressing my profound gratitude to God for His gift of restored hearing.

As a butterfly enthusiast, I take great delight in following the life cycle of many species that grace my garden. One of my neighbors even stops by on occasion to ask me how my "worms" are doing. I know it's a anthropomorphic leap to attribute human thoughts and emotions to these natural wonders, but I confess to chatting with the caterpillars, talking to the chrysalises, and praising the butterflies as I pull weeds and edge borders. So, you see, I do know what they are thinking.

I feel a great kinship with the lone caterpillar who must face unwanted change and be forced to withdraw from a life of sound and his interaction with the known world. Observing the startling chrysalis transformation, I try to tell him that this new state of isolation will not be forever. But he cannot hear me. Cocooned in silence, he waits and hopes for a better tomorrow.

And then it happens - - - the touch of the Divine!

The change occurs from within, often imperceptible to a watching world. As the new life emerges from the chrysalis, a struggle ensues which I've read is an important part of the toughening process. Any interference from well-meaning observers would cause his demise. He must do the work himself. His heavy, fluid-filled wings must dry in the sun before he can fly. I've been an eye-witness to this miraculous event on more than one occasion and I'm totally awestruck each time. I know what he once was and what he has become.

Do you ever wonder

if the butterfly remembers his former state?

I know that I will never forget mine.

A New Product on the Horizon

There's a new external processor just released for my "first" ear, and I'm getting excited. I'll be sharing as soon as my C-1 Harmony arrives! Thanks, Advanced Bionics engineers, for continuing to work on behalf on us long ago recipients!

A New Modus Operandi

The busyness of life has kept me from writing for two months but it has not kept me from thinking about writing on my CI Journey blog. Since Christmas, Gerry and I have experienced life as it is normally lived-out - - - with some joyous times, some very sad times, and mostly times of the drudgery of work and daily chores. Does that sound like your life, too?

For someone who spent so much of her adult life in the dark, so to speak, these last few weeks have been pretty amazing. My severe hearing loss used to keep me in a constant internal state of apprehension. Before every new experience was fear - - - a fear that I would not be able to hear enough to function. I would always be on the alert for the best place to stand, the best place to sit, and the best person to be with for "hearing" help. My radar was always attuned to lighting issues that might reduce my ability to lipread and to activity pockets that meant disturbing noise levels. I dreaded new experiences because they usually spelled trouble.

The last two months have made it so clear to me that my modus operandi has really changed. In January, it never occurred to me before we joined my parents on a Caribbean cruise to be concerned about whether I would be able to hear. In February, when a dear family friend asked Gerry to give the eulogy and sing a hymn at her husband's funeral, my thoughts were about such things as how to comfort and what to wear since it was a graveside service in the winter. It never crossed my mind to worry about struggling to hear people who would be soft-spoken and emotional (both factors make hearing more difficult). The church buffet dinner following the funeral would be in a large social hall, a setting notoriously difficult for those with hearing loss. I didn't even register that idea until days later when it dawned on me that it was a non-issue!

Now that spring is finally coming to central Florida and a welcomed whiff of warmth is in the air, I've been reflecting on life at the start of 2010. Having such amazing hearing in both ears now has established a mental change in my approach to life's events that I had not really stopped to consider until now. There's been an imperceptible ushering in of a new normal. This lack of concern re: my hearing is truly monumental for me and a kind of rite of passage.

Speaking of rites of passage, my dear hubby is about to experience his own season of change. He decided that it was time to address his mild high frequency hearing loss, a state of affairs so typical of 'older' military guys who had careers in and around aircraft. His hearing aids are now on order, and he is scheduled for fitting the first week in April. Did I mention already that a change is in the air? Ah, life . . . (sigh) . . . full of joy, of sorrow, and of the common, ordinary things that bind us together.