Rain

You gotta check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6ZVpZqistk

My goodness, people really can sound like rain! What blows me away about this video clip is that I can actually hear it so well and can make my own acoustic comparison with the sound of the authentic wet stuff. Now think about that for a moment. I had spent decades unable to hear any precipitation, with the exception of a frightening experience with golfball size hail pounding my car one afternoon after school. I think I could register a loud thunderclap by the faint shudder of the "boom", but maybe it's just by the memory of its sound.

Shortly after activation back in 2000, I remember sitting in the passenger seat of our car in the parking lot of Burwell-Morgan Mill, an old (circa:1785) grist mill in Millwood, Virginia, awaiting the end of an unexpected afternoon shower. To be honest, I was far more enamored that day by the sound of the downpour than by this beautifully restored historic landmark, the oldest operable merchant mill in the Shenandoah Valley.

What is it with me and my love affair with water anyway?

N.C.I.S.

It's time for N.C.I.S. - no, not the TV show but a "Non-CI Snippet". The last time I wrote something unrelated to my hearing journey was one year ago, so I suppose it's OK to get a tad side-tracked.

My CI buddy Denise grew up on a farm. She knows all about such things as pullets and shares with such wonderful wisdom and whimsy. Maybe she was even a 4Her as a kid, won one of those ribbons at the county fair, or helped her mom with the canning. Did you, Denise?

Me? Well, I lived in the country for the first 8 years of my life. I do remember the dairy farms we would pass going to and from school every day, but I never milked a cow or held a pitchfork in my hand. My parents had a small vegetable garden at the far end of the house and I have a vague memory of seeing tomato plants, radishes, and rhubarb growing there. My interest in plants back then was practically nil, unless you count collecting seeds to glue on construction paper in art class. I was into swimming in Culvers Lake, exploring the woods that surrounded our house, climbing trees, and doing such environmentally irresponsible things as catching lightning bugs in a jar stuffed with grass and sealed with a lid I'd mutilated with an ice pick so that the little buggers could survive the night on my dresser.

Why am I writing about these memories? Because today I harvested my first pineapple and I'm as proud as punch!! I started the plant a few years ago from a discarded top but never really expected any produce. When my 3 strawberry plants yielded some juicy red morsels (generally half-eaten by birds before I could pick them), I began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, this summer I'd see something more than boring green blades on my half-hearted Hawaiian experiment. And then it finally happened - - - a tiny bulbous thing instead of another leaf.

Did you know that it takes months and months and months for a neglected, unfertilized pineapple to become worthy of a knife and a fork? In the end, my little midget was not a prize winner in size but the flavor, by golly, was over-the-top delicious!

Now, farm-raised Denise could put a spin on my pineapple story that would leave the reader both entertained and enriched. I love the way she always gleans some spiritual lesson from ordinary events. In my case, perhaps there might be several applications, such as how patience yields its fruit in season, how it's best not to judge a book by its cover, or . . . hmmmm, maybe . . . learning to hear with a cochlear implant can be like growing a pineapple: it can take considerable time and practice before the brain gets the full benefit/yield from this technological miracle. (That last sentence sure sounds like a Forrest Gump-ism)

To be honest with you, though, my sense of accomplishment over this juicy morsel is certainly unjustified. The same is true for the variety of orchids that adorn one of our crepe myrtle trees. All I do is hang them there; it's our awesome Creator who graces them with long-lasting blooms for us to admire. I did nothing to merit a pineapple or an orchid bloom. And I did nothing to deserve to have such successful cochlear implants!

So this side-tracked musing of mine is turning out to be a non-N.C.I.S. after all. I guess I am so very grateful for the gift of restored hearing that even harvesting a pineapple reminds me to thank God for sight, smell, taste, and hearing.

Maybe I should see what God would do with a banana plant.

He makes all things beautiful in His time. Eccles.3:11

A Dream CI Moment

I awoke this morning with a marvelous, lilting melody replaying in my head. Instantly, I realized that my waking state was ending a delightful dream. I'd been standing at some kitchen sink, hands plunged in soapy water and crocodile tears streaming down my cheeks. My mom had approached me, a look of genuine concern etched on her face. "Shesh, what's wrong?"

With difficulty, I gained enough composure to tell her that I was not upset over the drudgery of the task at hand but was completely overwhelmed by the hauntingly beautiful song of the flute that I could hear so clearly in the background. Classical music was coming from somewhere else in this house (unknown places are common in my dreams; it's people that are familiar to me). I was so thrilled with this extraordinary tune that tears flowed freely - - - another unusual event in my dreamland.

The melody stayed with me as I showered but, sad to say, was gone by the time I got dressed. Yes, I'd have written it down as soon as my feet hit the floor if I'd been Mozart or Handel. It's now lost forever, but at least I can still smile over the memory of having an actual CI moment in my dreams!

Water: Acoustic Friend or Foe?

The sound of a babbling brook is on my list of favorite things to listen to. Maybe its high rank is due to the fact that its soothing sound was lost to me for over 20 years. Maybe it's because mountain streams bring back memories of happy times in my youth. I was a water kid whose idea of a great time was hiking in or along a rocky creek bed, logging in endless hours at a water park, tubing in a mountain lake, or even swimming in a motel pool.

Not all water sounds evoke such pleasant emotions. In fact, running water in the bathroom sink sometimes reminds me of those painful dark days of profound hearing loss when I would be embarrassed to discover that I had unintentionally left the water running. No sound = no clue to turn the faucet to the OFF position. I remember how running water would also supply sufficient white noise in the teacher's lounge to cause a major decrease in my ability to understand the words of my colleagues, or to interrupt any communication with my mom in the kitchen as we worked together to prepare a family meal. Any background noise was an enemy in those days.

I am very fond of waterfalls, too, but more for their visual beauty than their sound, I think. Most waterfalls are loud enough to drowned out conversation if standing nearby. Last month, while attending the national HLAA convention in Nashville, Gerry and I were delighted to discover several man-made charmers inside the Gaylord Opryland Hotel. The place is a lush rainforest-like wonderland with 11 acres of indoor gardens, complete with dancing fountains, meandering streams, and noisy waterfalls. We managed to make time for an indoor boat ride to see one of the larger waterfalls from a lower vantage point.

To say that the Gaylord Opryland was a spacious, acoustical challenge is a bit of an understatement. Aside from the water sounds, consider that the glass roof enclosing the resort was 15 stories high, the main restaurants and cafes were open-air, most of the walkways were elevated, and the place was sold out (2,881 rooms!). In the presence of so much background noise, I did not expect to be able to participate in conversations while out and about. After all, I am really a deaf person who hears through 2 implanted processors. Yet, while standing in one of the shopping corridors, I asked an employee for directions to the ladies room and understood his answer! I chatted with fellow Advanced Bionics CIers amongst the throngs and followed the dialogue! Gerry and I conversed while walking the "miles" of walkways without a problem! An incredible experience for this bilateral bionic babe.

A Unique Anniversary Card

I have a cousin who has a heart of gold . . . and possesses disgustingly creative genes! The two of us have never lived near each other, rarely see each other, and are both too busy to maintain regular correspondence via email or snail mail. But she is one of those rare people who senses when you need a long-distance hug, a word of encouragement, or a simple thinking-of-you message.

Sherry, who resides in Connecticut, wanted me to have an anniversary card to celebrate my first year of bilateral hearing. That she even remembered the event warmed my heart to the core. Since no Hallmark or other retail store stocks an appropriate card commemorating the miracle of restored hearing, Sherry decided she'd just have to make me one.

The cover (pictured here) is probably too small to see the special details, so I'll describe a few of the embellishments. The word "Sounds" is in the upper left corner near a picture of a clock with the words "Tic-toc" to the right. Below are some adorable baby birds with "Chirps" glued above them. Next is a small segment of a musical composition threaded to a woven, beaded cord that stretches the length of the card. The word "Conversations" is affixed to a painting of 2 people enjoying one another's company at teatime.

Now, I ask you, is there a more personalized and appropriate cochlear implant card to be found?!? I bet you wish you had a cousin Sherry . . . or maybe you do. Why not tell her how very special she is.

"A man has joy in an apt answer.
And how delightful is a timely word." Proverbs 15:23

Discoveries

Life is full of discoveries, mostly inconsequential tidbits rather than monumental, life-changing revelations. Yesterday I learned that donkeys (aka: burros) love human contact and possess the temperament of a devoted canine. I've lived for nearly 6 decades, and I never knew that. Important stuff, huh?

Well, today I discovered that when I whistle, the sound registers as 2 distinctly different pitches to my bionic ears. My left ear hears it as a lower tone than my right ear, I suppose because of the difference in the implant technology of my older C1 on one side and the new Harmony implant on the other. It seems really weird since I'm blowing one tone and hearing two!

Life is full of discoveries . . . .

Bilateral Birthday

The day came and went without fanfare - - - no birthday cake or even a cupcake with a single candle! A whole year of surround sound made possible by the "birth" of hearing in my right ear, yet we did not celebrate.

Was it because it was the dreaded tax day? Was it because it was a typical Wednesday workday? The day that always marked the return of the hummingbirds when we lived in Virginia? Maybe it was because it was my second cochlear implant instead of my first one, less dramatic somehow to add more sound than to initialize it from silence or useless hearing aid amplification? The second child in the family has less baby pictures in the photo album, doesn't he?

A recent comment from a neighbor, "You probably hear better now than the rest of us.", may be a clue to our lack of celebratory spirit. My hearing is so normal, so natural these days that it is easy to forget that it is abnormal, unnatural for a deaf person like me to function as I do. A twinge of discomfort and anxiety does invade my relaxed state of mind on occasion, such as when someone leans over to whisper something in my ear or when I enter a crowded restaurant with ridiculously loud music bellowing forth from the ceiling speakers. But there are also times when Gerry will request, "Say again, please," and a trace of a smile will grace my lips as I marvel over the fact that I heard the comment.

You know, we really should have celebrated. Bilateral hearing is truly wonderful, and I am profoundly grateful! Belated parties are great fun, too. I think I'll drop some hints.

Il Divo

I have always loved acapella male choirs and the wonderful harmonizing of skilled quartets. Gerry used to sing barbershop when we lived in Virginia and his weekly practice sessions were such a treat for me.

I'm a bit behind the times, I know, but I've only just discovered the foursome, Il Divo. When you consider the fact that Christians were tortured and executed in the Roman Coliseum, this rendition of Amazing Grace 2000 years later is truly amazing.

Amazing is a word I often use to describe the sound I get from my cochlear implants. To think that I would have never heard Il Divo if not for the miraculous gift of bionics!!

The setting of this music clip is a coliseum in Croatia. Enjoy.

http://link.brightcove.com/services/player/bcpid271552717?bctid=1913313052

Sousa

I have always loved march music. Play me "The Stars and Stripes Forever" and I'm toe-tapping and on the edge of my seat in eager anticipation of the piccolo solo in the middle. I adore the piccolo, I suppose because it reminds me of a songbird singing its little heart out. Or maybe it's because that high frequency serenade was missing in my life for 20+ years.

We attended a concert tonight that was billed as a tribute to John Philip Sousa. (There are some wonderful perks for those of us who reside in a town with a university that is renown for its music department.) We sat in the front row in the balcony, but I was really in 7th heaven! During the second musical piece, I nonchalantly detached my headpiece from first one ear and then the other to compare the sound of the xylophone and the wood block. I loved the clarity and sharpness of the new Harmony, but I also missed the mellow bass fullness of the clunkier sound of the old C1. So these occasional experiments were conducted as quickly as possible because together the two CI's provide the creme de la creme of sound in a live performance.

Take a bow, Stetson University Symphony Band.

Improving

Ah, the look of healing. Ain't it grand? Gerry's now off his pain meds, and we are both rejoicing over the speed of his recovery. I'm often saying to him, "Hon, would you say that again, please." because his swollen tongue makes him sound like a TV drunk. I had forgotten how much clear diction affects how well my implants work for me. He's such a good sport about my frequent requests for repeats and gives it another try.

A Week Later

It's certainly not a bowl of cherries to spend eight days in the hospital, but there are always blessings to consider in light of the alternatives. Apart from the obvious great medical care available in the U.S. of A. that so many other countries would die for (oops --- that didn't come out quite right), I'm so grateful that we have insurance to cover the whopping costs that Gerry's many tests and procedures were piling up.

Even that uncomfortable, sagging child-size roll-away bed I slept in every evening was a blessing because I really wanted to stay by his side as his team of doctors tried to diagnose the problem. (Can you find me in the picture?) He was wheeled out at 10:00 pm on Friday night for an MRI which uncovered a major problem, 80% blockage in his left carotid artery. This was NOT the cause of his "event" last Wednesday but was indeed a dangerous situation --- a stroke just waiting to happen. A vascular surgeon came in on Saturday night to explain the recommended surgery and to schedule it for Monday, his first available opening.

With each new day came a visit from several different nurses or the occasional case worker, student intern, and the all-important hospital specialist to check on him and to give us a report on his CT scans, blood work, EEG's, EKG's, etc. All negative, thank the Lord, but perplexing since the cause of his previous troubles was still a mystery. Hearing these scores of visitors was challenging for me because the majority of them were non-American with heavy accents.

Now here's a pretty picture! A day and a half after carotid endarterectomy and a few hours before discharge. Gerry's voice is at least one octave lower, sounding like Louis Armstrong, and his swollen tongue makes eating and speaking a bit of an effort. Time should allow these nerves to heal.

Ears for Emergencies

I was never more grateful for my CI's and bilateral hearing than yesterday. Gerry had an "episode" while we were in the work van. He pulled over, white as a sheet and clammy to the touch, and said to me, "Call 911." Using my cell phone in my left ear, I could hear the dispatcher's questions, such as, "Is he having trouble breathing?", "Can he move his legs?", "Is the nausea any worse?", I could relay each question to Gerry, then hear his mumbled responses in my right ear. While the EMT's tended to him, I handled the steady stream of questions with only a few, "I'm sorry - would you say that again, please."

We are still in the hospital since all the tests may take days. I drove home in the evening for essentials, like my CI battery charger, and thanked our merciful God for the ability to hear and for His promised presence and care for us.

Riverdance

Last weekend we celebrated Dad's 84th birthday by going to the final Orlando showing of "Riverdance", the famous Irish music and dance extravaganza. Imagine the thrill for me to hear this marvelous production with both ears!I must confess, by the end of the show I had a dull headache 'cuz I just couldn't bring myself to turn down the volume on my CI's. I wanted to experience the full spectrum of surround sound from start to finish, every tap and shuffle, every penny whistle and drumbeat. From the melancholy haunting wail of the Uilleann bagpipe to the flat clank of the cowbell - - - I loved it all.

Our Email Christmas Card, 2008

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

Cell Phone Success

I am so proud of my "new" bionic ear. I gave it quite a test today and it passed with flying colors. The work-out was a lengthy cell phone conversation - - - not a call in the quiet of my own living room and not with a familiar, "safe" voice of a family member. I was in the passenger seat of a very noisy Chevy van with my "new" ear next to the window. It was Friday afternoon and traffic was heavy. I was talking with an acquaintance from Atlanta whose voice I was not accustomed to. Holding it to my ear to take advantage of the built-in t-coil and the T-mic, I never once needed to say, "Pardon?" or "Could you please repeat that; I didn't catch what you said."

This event means nothing to a person with normal hearing, but to this phone phobic who is deaf as a do-nut hole, it was a shining moment.

Clues

During our prayer request time after Bible Study on Tuesday, Linda quietly exclaimed, with her eyes gazing at her hands, "I have one kitty." My mind immediately began to consider the possible reasons for her obvious distress: something has happened to her other cat? She's about to tell us about something terrible that has happened to her precious kitty?

Then I hear " . . . new doctor . . . in renal failure stage 3 . . . I'm waiting for blood test results . . . drinking more water . . ." and I begin to suspect that maybe I've misunderstood something. What's the matter with her darn cat?

Try as they may, these dear ladies who attend our neighborhood Bible study just can't seem to abide by the one-voice-at-a-time rule, especially during the prayer request time at the close of our bi-weekly gathering. Each one feels compelled to add what they know about the details of the prayer concern. With everyone talking at once about this and that -healthy diet, the negative impact of stress, a great aunt who had - I'm at the mercy of catching a word or phrase here and there from poor Linda who is seated across the large circular table.

And then it dawns on me. Oh, she said that she has one KIDNEY! I try to suppress a smile, which is certainly not an appropriate response to Linda's current tribulation. Hearing loss can still get me in trouble from time to time, even with two great cochlear implants.

Electronic Buzzing

The mystery of that occasional electronic buzzing sounds since my last mapping has been solved. I had assumed it was the wider IDR on my new program slot, but not so. Strange as it may seem, I figured it out when riding in Mom and Dad's car.

Gerry "looped" their car years ago so that my hearing-impaired mom could be a part of our conversations. All the passengers wear boom mics and Mom flips a switch on her remote which activates her t-coils on her hearing aids. Voila - - - our voices go straight to her Phonak aids and she stays in the "loop".

Well, we were pulling out of the driveway and Mom's knee rubbed on the boom mic protruding from the seat pocket. My Harmony ear made a crackling "kkkrrr" sound and I thought "Hey, what's this about?". She touched the foam covering the tiny mic and I heard a rustling sound again.

The light slowly began to dawn on me; I sensed the approach of an "Ah-ha" moment. I retrieved the mic, passed it up to Gerry in the driver's seat, and asked him to talk into the mic. Mom commented, "Sheila, I don't have my t-coils turned on yet." Gerry started talking and his voice was immediately in my right ear.

So . . . . mystery solved. My audi must have activated my t-coil on program #3 when she put the wider IDR setting in that slot. It's no wonder that I buzz when I get close to the TV or walk through those sensor panels at the drugstore. Since I prefer the 80 IDR for everyday listening, that buzzy t-coil needs to be moved to another program slot. Guess what I'm going to request next time I go to Tampa for another mapping?

CI Semantics

Oh, the world of techo-lingo abounds with cochlear implants. Words and acronyms, such as threshold, compression, spectral channels, RF, NRI, AGR, IDR, HiRes -P, HiRes -S . . . . what does it all mean? Well, the bottom line for me is this: if my audiologist works her magic on the computer and I hear better as a result, I'm a happy camper.

At my 6th mapping session today, I asked for a wider IDR for my last program slot, position #3. The letters IDR stand for Input dynamic range. The "standard" IDR default setting is 60, I think, and the maximum on my new Harmony is 80. This is the widest in the CI industry and a unique feature of the Harmony processor.

So what, you ask? The bigger the number, the bigger the sound window. That means that my world of sound has now expanded outward if I switch to slot #3. A wider IDR is designed to allow me to hear more loud vs. soft and near vs. far away sounds.



What have I noticed so far?

• fuller, louder choir at church on Sunday. WONDEFUL!!


• easier to hear a book-on-tape through the car speakers - the voice seems to "come through" better somehow


• clearer sound on the TV - I catch more words without looking at the screen


• hearing some soft electronic buzzing when close to the TV and when walking through the monitor thing-y at the drugstore entrance. I remember having this annoyingly loud with my digital hearing aids but not with my CI.

I've heard other CIers with Advanced Bionics refer to this IDR setting as their "music program" since softer softs and louder louds makes quite a difference for music buffs. After just one week, I think I like it as my daily setting. I may prefer to switch to program #1 in a noisy restaurant, but I haven't been out to eat yet. Humm . . . excuse me . . . "Gerry, . . . ."

Non-CI Moment

Some wonderful moments do not involve sound. It's no secret that I'm a butterfly lover, not because of their melody but because of their incredible symmetrical beauty and their remarkable power of metamorphosis. I even think the caterpillars are gorgeous.

I love providing them with host plants for their eggs and with flowers for the adults to feed on. I do the gardening and Gerry takes the photos - a good team approach.

This morning we were entertained by a visitor we'd never had before and who graciously allowed us to take his picture. I theorize that his resting posture may have something to do with the dreary week of downpours from Tropical Storm Fay that we've just endured. We've had a record-breaking amount of rain, deluging weather that is distasteful to butterflies as well as people. This butterfly is called a red-spotted purple admiral. Isn't he a charmer?

Dad's Recovery

The ordeal is over. Well, at least the hospital part for my dear Dad. He and I have similar temperaments and now we have another thing in common: metal in our bodies. His is a metal plate with 10 screws in his upper left arm, fusing his broken humerus.

My miraculous CI sound was really put to the test throughout the day of surgery, and I silently thanked God for my bilateral hearing time and time and time again. When I heard Mom introduce me to one of the nurses, "This is our daughter. She is my ears.", the wonder of those words warmed my heart to the core.

While we were in the crowded waiting room during Dad's operation, there was a hall announcement of a code red emergency, something about a fire alarm on the 5th floor. I heard it and could tell Mom what was going on! While the room buzzed with numerous conversations and a TV mounted high up in a corner droned on with some news program to which no one was listening, the desk phone rang. Since I was seated close by and no one else seemed to be making a move to answer it, I picked it up. The gist of the conversation was something like this: "Is this a volunteer? (No) Are you a waiting family member? (Yes) Is Patricia D - - - there? (Excuse me?) Patricia D - - - from Daytona Beach (Sorry, what's the name again?) Patricia D - - -, D-E-E-N-G. (I'll ask . . . Is there a . . . .) WOW! Later I heard the all-important message about Dad and his assigned room number.

Based on names such as Graal, Lucretia, Mojak, and Chandra, you might guess that most of Dad's nursing staff were not as American as apple pie. Just as I would become accustomed to one nurse and her "signature" accent, her shift would end and another one would arrive. As soon as she spoke her first sentence, she would reveal yet another unusual dialect. To be fair, there was a Denise from New York and a Krista from Georgia or some place where a southern drawl as thick as spoon bread is commonplace. An oriental lady from admitting arrived sometime in the afternoon, toting a laptop and needing to ask umpteen questions which I'd answered at least a half dozen times already. She and I went out in the hall. I think I asked for only one repeat!

Gerry and I drove my parents home on Friday evening after an exhausting 2 days of hospital routine. Mom had been allowed to spend the night in a recliner and kept both her hearing aids on to tend to Dad's needs when the nurses were not around. Despite considerable post-op pain, I'm sure their own bed must have felt wonderful.