The 2000th Cochlear Implant Celebration - Melbourne

I do love balloons. So when I got an invitation to attend a balloon release, to celebrate the 2000th cochlear implant surgery in Melbourne, I was like a kid at Christmas.

I’d been sent a name tag and was asked to write on the back, in 25 words or less, what having a cochlear implant means to me. That tag would then be attached to a balloon and released at an afternoon tea on the 26th August, during Hearing Awareness Week here in Australia.

I spent that entire weekend writing and rewriting my message on scrap pieces of paper. Actually, it wasn’t scrap paper – it was Jason’s heavy-duty graphic arts notebook. Sorry Jase. I have to write wherever the inspiration takes me. Even if that means later taking you back to the stationery store for another notebook. :-P

Anyway, after about five pages of drafts, I’d finally arrived at a message I was happy with. I wrote it neatly on the tag and sent it back to the hospital.

Last week, my audiologist, Liz, asked me whether I’d like to make a brief speech, share my story with the other recipients. Sure! I felt pretty special to have been asked, and thought it would be a great way to meet other CI recipients afterwards. I’m still making up for all the lost conversation opportunities over these last three years.

I don’t know why I’d been expecting this to be a low-key afternoon tea, some people gathered around a balcony. Ha! I should have known Melbourne was not going to miss its chance to celebrate this milestone in style!

I made my way over to the registration table, to collect a name tag. My eyes scanned the names too quickly. The Honorary Daniela Andrews? For a split second, I felt overly flattered, given it was just a three-minute speech I was going to be making. Then the lady handed me the name tag directly above it. Of course. Daniela Andrews. Not the one below it, which was for the Honorary Daniel Andrews MP, our Minister for Health.  Now that could have been embarrassing. :-)

I was told to head straight to the front row, so I started making my way over. Then I realised there was no way I was going to be able to get past the crowd of people gathered in the centre of the aisle. I waited patiently to one side.

Liz started waving me over, with a smile. ‘Come on!’

Er … how?!

I looked at the crowd of people, about to say ‘excuse me’ so I could squeeze past.  Then I realised the man in the centre, whom so many people were gathered around, was Professor Graeme Clark. (Woah! Professor Graeme Clark was here?!)

I looked at Liz with a sideways smile. There was no way I was going to ask Professor Graeme Clark to step aside, or interrupt his conversation in any way. I stayed in my spot, off to the side, happy to just gaze at the group. 

But Liz, far too intelligent, probably figured she had no way of getting me to walk one single step further until I’d acknowledged the man responsible for giving me, and so many others, our lives back. So she just introduced me, then and there.

‘Daniela was one of the first adults here to receive two implants at the same time,’ she told him. ‘She’ll be speaking today.’

‘Two implants,’ he said, with a cheeky smile. ‘Does that mean your speech is going to be twice as long?’

Well I did not have an answer prepared for that one! I think I thanked him half a dozen times before I hurried down the front again to take my seat. I sat beside Bernadette, another CI recipient who was sharing her story. I marvelled at the fact that the two of us could have a conversation with all the background noise!

I looked at the program. A welcome speech by the CEO of the hospital, then a speech from my surgeon and Clinical Associate Professor, Robert Briggs. Then a speech from our health minister, Daniel Andrews. Then me and Bernadette. After that, there’d be speeches by Professor Graeme Clark. Then Professor Richard Dowell, director of audiological services at the hospital. (Who sang and performed the most beautiful 'Eye and Ear' version of 'I still call Australia home'!) Then the cutting of the cake. The balloon launch. And the afternoon tea.

My heart started to beat faster and louder, the closer it got to my speech. I started wondering whether all the other bionic listeners in the room could hear it too! But then a little voice inside me said, ‘scared of a little public speaking? Seriously? I thought your fear was silence. Not this. Get over it.’  Sometimes I want to throttle that little voice. But sometimes, it comes through. How true. I used to have a fear of public speaking. But that was in the past now. I took a deep breath and, well, got over it.

And then I was up on stage.

I couldn’t miss my moment to acknowledge the number of CI recipients in the one room. ‘I’ve been walking around Melbourne for months trying to find you all!’ (Those who regularly read this blog know full well that my dismal score of ‘Spot the CI’ remains at ‘1’. And also, I don’t think yesterday really counts, so the score is still ‘1’!)

Then I took a deep breath and launched into my speech. I tried not to look at any particular person in the crowd, but I was quite happy to send a few smiles Professor Graeme Clark’s way when I was describing life after switch-on.

Bernadette’s speech after mine was fascinating, and she too echoed a lot of the same things. Not meeting people’s eyes for fear of conversation, for example. And how much she enjoys the sounds of the birds now. Our stories are all unique, but our joys and frustrations are pretty alike, aren’t they?

It was great to be able to listen to the various speakers at this session. Dr Briggs told us about the history of the implant, and Melbourne's existing milestones. He also told us all about Venice, implanted at 9 months. You can see her story here: http://www.medoto.unimelb.edu.au/clinical_services/cochlear_implant_clinic/venices_story

I later met Venice and her mum, Jenny. I asked Jenny what she thought Venice’s favourite sound might be ‘Music!’ she said. ‘She dances to it!’ My heart just about melted when she said that.

I’m happy to report that, despite a forecast of thunder and hail, we had blue skies for the balloon release. The kids gave a cheer as the balloons went up (and thankfully stayed well away from the St Patrick’s cathedral spires nearby!).

 In case you’re wondering, here was the message on mine:

We all got to take away the program guide from the event too, and that has the printed ‘balloon messages’ from all of us. It’s a nice little keepsake. I keep flicking through it and smiling at all the comments.

Here is a photo of our 2000th recipient cutting the cake, helped by ... er ... Daniel Andrews. 

It was a wonderful afternoon, and I really enjoyed talking to everybody, whether they were CI recipients, family members of CI recipients, or people associated with the various organisations involved. 

And yes, I got plenty of chances to chat to Professor Graeme Clark and blurt out more “thank-yous” as the afternoon progressed! I told him my experience had been like going from darkness to light. That life with CIs was unquestionably better than life without them. At some point, I apologised for not having the right words to thank him. But I hoped he got the message from my speech. He was quite happy to pose for photographs, so I got in behind a queue of children. When I got to the front, I said, ‘I’m a child at heart – can I have a photo too!’

He really is the most lovely, humble man. And when only a few of us remained, he shyly revealed that he just turned 75 this month. Ohhhh! Call everyone back! We could have had a roomful of CI recipients sing him happy birthday! It was too late for that, unfortunately, but you know … he doesn’t come across as the sort of man who desires the spotlight anyway. He’s more likely to be sitting to the side of the spotlight, a huge smile spread across his face as he chats to a child with a cochlear implant. That’s where he seemed most comfortable on this particular afternoon, anyway.

Happy birthday anyway, Professor Graeme Clark!