Every journey has a beginning

Progressive hearing loss means learning to compensate for what is lost.  When the television is too soft, the volume goes up.  Speech is no longer easy to hear so visual cues are used; lipreading is my saving grace.  Nodding and smiling is easier than asking someone to repeat what was said for the sixth time.

Yet, as long as I hear sound, I thought I could hear.

Until now.

I drove to work Wednesday morning and thought of all the sounds that have been snatched from my world - one by one.  The sound of crickets in the summer. The trill of a songbird. The fire detector's high pitched shrill. The soft hum of a fan. A child's lilting laughter.  The ringing phone.  A bell on a bicycle.  The voices of friends.  Conversations at work.   Music.  

However, I could still function in a hearing world.  I had different scenarios to handle different situations.  Email made functioning at work simple.  With the volume blasting, I could talk on the phone with someone whose voice I knew well.  Texting made personal communication and checking up on kids a snap.

Then a few weeks ago my hearing started to change, almost like the runner that I wish that I could be.  This new change took off, sprinting towards a finish line where there would be no cheering - only silence.  And this intrigued me and frightened me on so many levels.  I was curious, would I be shoved into a world devoid of sound, after spending almost 39 years hearing?

Now I'm in a quasi deaf state.  I hear some sounds - odd sounds.  I can't hear the train or the people on the train - but I can hear the computer voice announce a stop.  I hear an occasional thunk or thwack or sneeze.  Sometimes I hear a far off voice that sounds like it has been submerged under water, locked away in a room, and buried underground.  And I hear the tinnitus.  That evil ringing has been keeping me company since I was 12.  I wonder if that will go away when the rest of the sounds fade?  I'd be OK with that.

So, I'm on a journey to explore becoming a cochlear implant (CI) candidate.  My ENT is hopeful and the testing will continue.  So many factors, so many decisions, so many choices....not one easy one in the bunch.  I always said that I wouldn't choose a CI because I didn't want to lose the natural sound of the world.  What I am hearing is not natural.

I may yearn to be able to laugh at a joke without getting cues from others laughing, and to once again understand what others say and contribute to conversations.  I even long to finally hear my co-worker's voice. Beyond all of that, I have learned that there are three sounds far more important than hearing in a natural state.

Brittany, Victoria, and Alexandra.

I want to hear my daughters again.  I'd like to hear them laugh and sing.  One day (years and years and years from now...right?) I'd like to hear my grandchildren laugh and sing and call me Nana.

I want to live with sound.

Welcome to my journey.   Thanks so much for coming - it is going to be quite a ride!

<3