The other day I was chatting with an acquaintance and he asked how I was getting along with my cochlear implant. I told him about my success with music and he said, ‘Well your hearing must be just about perfect now.” Well, not quite.
Throughout my life I have had people exclaim ‘Oh you hear so well.’ Or ‘Now that you have new hearing aids, you should be able to hear everything.’ Well, no unfortunately I don’t and I can’t. Sometimes I will try to explain the intricacies of hearing loss and hair cells dying off. When I tried to explain to this particular acquaintance how when we lose our hearing some sounds are lost forever and that makes understanding difficult even with a cochlear implant, I could just see his eyes glaze over.
The other week I chaired a small meeting of just five people, including me and had to ask others to repeat what they were saying several times. It was an off night.
When I received my cochlear implant more than four years ago, I expected that I would be able to not only hear, but also understand the voices of neighbours when we are outside weeding or, at this time of year, shoveling snow. I do hear the sounds now, but not always the words unless I move in closer.
I am writing this ‘tale of woe’ for a few reasons. First, to remind myself that I always need to keep my expectations in check. Secondly, to remember that when people say to me, ‘You are doing so well’, they mean it in the best possible way. They are encouraged and happy for me.
And finally, to let those of you at the beginning of your cochlear implant journey know that learning to hear with a cochlear implant is very much like learning to walk and it takes patience. The first steps are exhilarating – one only needs to look at a toddler’s face as she takes her first steps. And even the next several steps are exciting as well – walking without stumbling; running, racing, climbing etc.
During my first year with the implant, I went from hearing single words to full sentences to talking on the phone – clearly big steps! And to carry the steps metaphor a bit further, some of us go beyond running for pleasure and gain the speeds of an Olympic athletic. In my case, my Olympic moment came two and a half years ago when I heard all the notes of the symphony.
I need to count my blessings and remember where I started, rather than dwell on the ‘not perfect’. A good lesson!