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.