A late afternoon lap around a silent house

The screen door clangs shut behind me. I shuffle down the front steps carefully as my sandals lightly plod on each step. Bees busily buzz away in the smelly unidentified bush beside the porch. (Jasmine?) A car edges its way into the court and the tyres grip the road with a whirr as it completes its u-turn. The driver’s window is down and a radio advertisement escapes. (Actually, scratch that. It’s a loud offensive drumbeat of some sort.) Some twigs crunch beneath its wheels as it drives away.

The sounds of time

Last year, we purchased a cuckoo clock in Germany. It was not an easy purchase to pre-approve with Jase. I spent months convincing my sceptical husband that it would be a delightful little addition to our lives.  What a lovely lifelong hourly (and half-hourly!) reminder that we didn’t just dream our entire trip! But apparently my having a readily available ‘mute’ button rendered me Unqualified to argue that a cuckoo clock is Not Annoying.

The noisy silence

Over the last three years, I’ve come to treasure sounds. Most sounds. Not bagpipes. Don’t miss them, sorry. ;-) But I have tried to embrace all other sounds, even the badly distorted ones. No surprises there.

Since the silence following CI surgery? Sure. There are (temporarily) fewer sounds to treasure (told you about the cupboard slamming, right?). But I’ve started to discover some new sounds. That I can even reproduce. And I’m learning that the sounds I ‘treasure’ are, well, just Plain Annoying to my hearing family and friends. ;-)

Take these scenarios …

Tiger stripes: earned!

Fear not, my fellow Tigers supporters! I’ve called in a favour. You won’t be hearing Tigerland until at least Round 4 … when I can hear it. ;-)

And on the eighth day … there were cherries

Yesterday I told you about the smell of smoke and petrol. Today I’m sitting here enjoying the smell of cherries! The fruit? No. My shampoo! Aaaah … I made it to the one-week mark and was allowed to wash my hair. So now, every time I swish it around (and I’m doing that a lot), I’m greeted with the scent of fragrant cherries. Mmmm.


Today was my one-week follow-up appointment with my surgeon, Dr Robert Briggs. (Has it already been a week since the operation??!) I was a bit embarrassed about seeing my surgeon because, well … during the week I recalled something that I’d said to him in my drowsy post-operative state.

(Temporary) silence is thy friend

Yesterday I discovered that if I slammed one particular cupboard door, I could hear it! I then felt compelled to slam it again. So, armed with a stupid grin on my face, I did just that. Several times in a row. Then I tried some other cupboards. Nope. Nothing. So why that one? Turns out I’m hearing it slam against some misaligned coffee mugs, so the sound is higher pitched. I probably have no coffee cup handles left. But it‘s been fun. :-)

Every one of my visitors has asked me how I’m coping with the silence and it is, after all, a potential deal-breaker for people thinking of getting two ears implanted in the same operation, so I’ve decided to report on how it’s going.

The 5:22 am brainwave

Well they say that when the portion of the brain devoted to hearing is no longer in use, the dispensable brain cells reallocate their attention. I can confidently say that my brain, in the last couple of days, has devoted these neglected cells to finding a comfortable sleep solution. And at 5:22 am, it did me proud.

To sleep, or not to sleep?

I woke up feeling so good yesterday that I was alarmed when I saw my husband staring at me with a look of horror on his face.

“Are you OK??” his lips worded.

I was totally confused. Must be my face – maybe some bruising or further swelling had shown up. I started patting my cheeks and he nodded, indicating I was onto something.

Nope … no swelling … but one of my cheeks felt a bit warm.

I got up and looked in the mirror and burst out laughing. It looked as though I’d been slapped – hard – in my right cheek!

A new side effect of CI surgery? Not quite. Rather, a side effect of what I call Sleeping (Dis)comfort From CI Surgery.

Allow me to share with you.

Good omens … and April Fool’s Day

I’m not usually a superstitious person, but there are some things that I see a pattern in.

On the day of my surgery, I had three good omens that all would go well.

The First:

For the last couple of months, I’ve been playing a game called ‘Spot the CI wearer’. The only rule to this game is that the CI wearer can’t be in the CI clinic waiting room or foyer – that doesn’t count. Up until the morning of the surgery, I was sitting on a score of ‘zero’.

Post-op reflections

Happy New Year! Seems a rather fitting welcome for my “new ears”, even though the comment is actually inspired by the noises I heard in my head when I munched on my first post-op Vita Wheat biscuit. (Hard foods are still a 'no go'! When I munch it sounds like firecrackers going off in my head!)

Well I am home from the hospital, and up and about for the moment. Every few hours or so I go and lie down for another nap though.

Surgery went well – I got the thumbs up sign from Dr Briggs, as I lay in my post-op recovery daze. He said all the electrodes test-fired well, both ears, so hopefully that’s a good sign for switch-on.

I’m managing well with a blend of lipreading and written messages, so far. The silence is not as hard as I thought it would be, but then, it’s only Day 2.

The truth hurts ... my Mii

The Wii quite regularly gives me this cheery assessment: 

My husband smirked when he first saw it, and said I've always been 'Unbalanced'.

This particular score here came about after a rather intensive left-to-right balance-shifting session. I had to use my balance to hit virtual soccer balls being thrown at my on-screen character's head, and artfully dodge the random sneakers and, er, panda heads, also coming my way. Do you know the Wii Fit balance game I'm talking about? It's called 'Soccer heading'. You can watch a video of it here: http://www.wiifit.com/training/balance-games.html

(As another shoe hits my onscreen character, my 'Mii', square in the forehead, even my cat gives me A Look. I can only assume my Mii has squealed, and I'm suddenly rather grateful that I can't hear the pain I'm inflicting.)

'Are you seriously trying to hit the shoes?' said my husband when I first started playing this game, shaking his head in disbelief. (He likens it to the uncanny talent I have for steering my car over a piece of foreign road debris when I am actually trying to go around it.)

Project Tiger Stripes

I'm not very artsy or crafty. Creative genes I may have, but they do not extend to this area. (At this point, I think of the wonky-looking clay blob I made for my parents when I was 12. It still sits in my dad's display case. We tell people it's a paper weight.)

My creative mind has all sorts of ways of devising projects that are out of my league but I think, for this next one, I just might take up the challenge.

Oh nouns, oh nouns ... where can you be?

Dearest Nouns,

I fear your visits to my ears are becoming few and far between. 'Twas once a time when those party conversations were graced with your presence, but I'm afraid I've missed you at the last couple of large social gatherings.

Post-surgery entertainment

Tony sings: "Tonight, tonight, it all began tonight …"

Yes, well after tonight, it’s official: West Side Story is well and truly off the list of movies I’m allowed to watch when I’m recovering from my CI surgery in a couple of weeks. (*sniffs*)

Why? Because I've just remembered we are not supposed to blow our noses for two weeks after the surgery! Oh dear … and I thought the three weeks of silence would be the greatest challenge!

I’ve been told that I cry at everything and – oops. It’s kinda true.
OK, new goal. No unnecessary crying during the two weeks after surgery.

What does this mean for that neat floor pile of ‘recovery movies’ I’ve stacked up for myself? Well, let’s take a look.

There’s Mildly Ambitious … Far Too Ambitious … and Insanely Ambitious

Shh … I’m booking tickets for musical events taking place later this year. If my audiologist finds out, I fear she’ll send me for a pre-implant psychological assessment, quick smart, to quash those Unrealistic Expectations.

Let’s start with Mildly Ambitious, scheduled for around 4.5 months after switch-on. (August 2010)

Sorry, Dr Seuss!

OK, so everyone says that listening to children's books is a great way of training yourself with your CI, right? So, given that I'm itching to move ahead with this whole thing, I decide that I should fill in these last two weeks before the surgery with a new project: collecting some aural activities (in this case, audiobooks) so they're all ready to go for me after switch-on.

My husband raises one eyebrow at me (kills me how he can do that, I'm so jealous!) ... surely there's no hurry to do this now, his look suggests. I'll have plenty of time for this after the surgery.

Yes, well I'm IMPATIENT! ("You married me!") And here's where my apology to Dr Seuss comes in.