A moment of deafness

'Would it be OK if I check your processors, please? '


'Both of them?' I felt my heartbeat quicken.


He nodded.


I was at the Cochlear office, in the waiting area. I'd stopped in to help out with some research. The technician wanted to make sure the processors were in full working order before we got started, which made perfect sense and seemed a logical, professional thing to do.


But I was amazed at the feelings of panic it stirred up. I'd only be in silence for about five minutes. I spend a longer time in silence every day, whenever I shower. Six minutes. OK, seven minutes. Alright, alright. (I'm hearing Jase's voice in my head.) About 10 minutes. ;-)


But this moment was different because I was out in public. Near strangers. As I handed him my processors and sadly watched him walk away, I felt immediately vulnerable. All the emotions I used to feel came rushing back.

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.