When hated sounds become loved ones (well, 'liked' ones)

On Sunday morning, when our car pulled out onto High Street, we noticed some police lights flashing up ahead. Hmm. I couldn’t hear the siren, despite the fact that it looked like the car was moving – that was strange, and a bit disconcerting. But as we got closer, we realised there was no siren, only flashing lights. Phew! There were several police cars escorting a marching band of soldiers, coming up on the other side of the street with various instruments in tow. Jase wound down the car window so I could hear the music better. It was the local RSL club, playing the most beautiful music. I smiled in delight at the bugles I thought I was hearing.

‘Ohhhh,’ I said, in awe. It sounded so nice!

Then we got close enough for me to realise that they weren’t playing bugles at all. They were bagpipes. Uh oh. But I hate bagpipes!

Enter: Jason’s work Christmas party, 2001, Melbourne Zoo. A huge outdoor marquee, with about 150 people present. These were the days of normal hearing. It could’ve been a beautiful evening – one filled with dancing and social chatter amidst the odd lion's roar in the background. It could’ve been. And would’ve been. If it weren’t for the two men playing the bagpipes outside the marquee. A monotonous high-pitched, out-of-tune jangle (x 2) that went on and on without a pause.

Result: an unequivocal hatred for bagpipes, thenceforth.

Enter: local shopping plaza, Christmas 2009. A trio of men play the bagpipes in a busy food court. Children block their ears. Some are crying. State of my hearing: totally deaf on the left, profoundly deaf with amplified damaged hearing via hearing aid on the right. Status of hearing aid changes to: off. 

Result: a huge smile on my face, from one of the few times I found it advantageous to be deaf.

And here we were, driving along High Street, and I’d found myself looking at five soldiers standing in a row, playing the bagpipes. My smile disappeared, on instinct, and my face screwed up instead. That was how I used to react to bagpipes, and I guess the instinct was still there. But then it was replaced with a look of puzzlement. Because the bagpipes didn’t sound too bad, right? Well, not when I thought they were bugles. What’s more, hadn’t I even told my brain that they sounded lovely, five seconds ago? I was very confused.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned on the hearing rehabilitation path, it’s to appreciate this new way of hearing music – admire it in comparison with hearing aid quality, always, but never compare it to the way it sounded with natural hearing. The disappointment would stall the musical journey forever, or at least until the day when the technology improves. And I’m not waiting that long to enjoy music, when I can already enjoy it now, in my own way.

But I guess that means … I think, anyway … that I now like bagpipes …? Well, as long as I have access to this nifty little volume switch that makes them tolerable, anyway. (And there I was preparing myself for all musical instruments to sound worse with CIs, instead of better, ha ha.)

Ain’t life grand!