And another thing

Number of sleeps remaining: still 11

Kurt Cobain - "Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are."

Well that's me told...

A proper weird day all round

Number of sleeps remaining: 11

Today's thoughts:Letting go...

Gosh - Thursday already! Where has the week gone? I know I wanted to keep myself distracted but...

Well how's today been, bit on the weird side really - which seems to have been the popular consensus :) (Glad I'm not alone in my weirdness)

Thinking about letting go, of the person who I think I am now, the person I was never going to be - will the real 'Emma' please step forwards?

Losing my hearing sparked a kind of grieving process - and it took time. My memories of being a hearing person are still very vivid even now. Even though I can't hear the sounds I can still 'hear' the sounds in my head (gosh I'm making myself upset here, but hey, better out than in)

Things I can remember clearly:

- Taking my French Oral Exam at school, I could actually hear and speak in French!

- My Nanna's voice - it was pretty 'unique'

- My wedding day, saying my vows, repeating what the registrar said word perfect.

- My first baby crying, mewling away. Weirdly (sorry - it's word of the day) I could even hear her crying from the hospital nursery where she had been taken so I could get some sleep. I instinctively knew it was my baby.

What I can hear now - without the hearing aids that is!:

- Occasionally, low sounding rumbles...

- Most of the time, nowt at all

But being deaf is not a quiet experience - tinnitus rings away, or sometimes twitters away like an odd morning chorus - yep you've guessed it - weird!

Calm... (I think!)

Number of sleeps remaining: 12

Today's thought: Tales of the unexpected  

Hello readers, thanks for sticking with me.

Oddly I feel rather calm today, perhaps too calm...

I'm beginning to wonder if the meningitis injection was actually some kind of sedative??

Well at least I'm not having a high, low, high, low day.

I guess today's big announcement, was my er.... smallish announcement in my team meeting at work - explaining briefly about my forthcoming December absence.

A few surprised faces, and a lot of kind words - I was incredibly touched.

Received the official inpatient letter today - I need to arrive at the hospital by 4pm on the 5th of December (wonder if I will get a 'light' Welsh tea???).

The op is then scheduled for 9am on the Monday morning - which will last for at least 3 hours. I'm actually looking forward to the uninterrupted sleep :)

A day of two halves (or maybe three thirds...)

Number of sleeps remaining: 13
Today's thoughts - Who am I?

A day of two halves really...

Last night, despite my attempts to wear myself out by walking the whole Ikea circuit, found me tossing and turning at 1am.

Consequently it didn't put me in the best frame of mind for todays visit.

Today - Part 1
I was presented with an 'colleague recognition award' at work, after 7 - yes you read that correctly 7 people nominated me! I must admit it felt a little weird having all those nice things read out about me - it felt like they were being said about someone else.
What started out as a happy occasion ultimately made me feel sad - will I ever achieve anything like that again??

Today - Part 2
Fortunately the trip to hospital was wrapped up in just 2.5 hours today.
First I 'tried on' various sound processors, in order to pick my future ear companion. Mmmm it was a tricky decision, but in the end I chose a... (you'll have to wait and see!)
I then met my surgeons and was read the riot act about things which could go wrong...
A trip to get vaccinated against meningitis
Finally an epic pre-op session with the friendliest nurse you'll ever meet.

AND THAT'S IT - I've signed on the dotted line.

Right now... I could easily kick back and enjoy a glass of wine, but study calls.

Another day closer...

Number of sleeps remaining: 14
Today's thoughts: outside the bubble

Another busy day to take my mind off thinking about what's coming up in the next two weeks (that's two weeks TODAY)

Even Ikea played a role in distraction techniques today - LOL - the powers of Swedish meatballs :)

A big day tomorrow - I'm going to hospital for the final appointment before doomsday. Another battery of hearing tests (on the off chance that a miracle has happened and I've regained my hearing) and I get to select my 'device'.

An interesting concept really - choosing what gets embedded in your skull.

A troubled day

I don’t think I actually fully appreciated that I would ever get to this chapter, the third period of re-invention and trying to define or even find out who I am.

Of course I was always told that my deafness was progressive, but now I’m actually at the stage of ‘implantation’ I’ve suddenly found myself in a blur of uncertainty.

Yes, implantation, what a word – it sounds like a foreign body being inserted against a person’s will – which, in a way, I suppose that’s what it is – accept of course I’ve agreed that’s what I want.

Some stuff – the cochlear implant should be a good thing, it is... I’ll look back at these ramblings and laugh, hopefully.

Let me try and justify today’s thought processes... I’m feeling sad because I hate that something is going to happen to me that I’ve always wanted to avoid, yet welcome it at the same time... weird.

I’m feeling sad because I should be feeling happy that I have got this opportunity to try and make the best of a bad situation – AKA – being profoundly deaf.

I’m feeling frustrated because I can’t do the simplest thing – actually tell the people around me about what’s going to happen.

So let’s investigate this a bit further.

Reasons why I can’t actually tell people:

1. The words get stuck in my throat, ha ha (yes really!!)
2.  I feel like I am making myself look deficient in some way
3. I don’t want to see expressions of sympathy or pity – I’m not dead after all :D

Any great insights there? I’ll let you be the psychologist today.

A bit of background... where I was just two years ago.

I wasn't born deaf, I started to lose my hearing in my very early twenties. At that point I had been married to my hubby for 5 years and had two children (yeah I am an early starter!).

I currently have two degrees *show-off alert* - one of them being a Creative Writing Degree. For one of my assignments I was asked to do a piece of life writing, on a subject which changed the direction of my life - so here's a snippet!

(In case you want to read the whole saga - I have written a book *show-off alert* - follow this link An Aptitude of Zen)

Life, part two

Sometimes the changes which happen in life are so subtle that they blend into one another so smoothly, seamlessly. With the relentless hustle and bustle of bringing up a young family the last thing I wanted to acknowledge was the fact that I was losing my precious hearing; I was born into a hearing world and wanted to remain there. I loved to talk and to listen to other people; I didn’t want anything to alter that. So as defiant and stubborn as ever I made it my business to ignore the fact, refusing to acknowledge that a cataclysmic change was happening in my life whether I liked it or not. Fast forwards a couple of years and here I am with only 5% of my residual hearing left, which to those not familiar with ‘hearing impaired’ terminology means I am profoundly deaf. Even with the assistance of my digital hearing aids I am only able to achieve approximately 60% of what I might be able to hear – that’s 6 out of every 10 words spoken, try and imagine constantly trying to fill in the gaps.

            Just for a moment let me rewind back to the beginning. At the early stages of my hearing loss it was very easy to continue life in a normal fashion, turning up the volume of the TV a fraction is not a massive upheaval in the wider scheme of life. Turning myself into a dizzy social butterfly, asking people to repeat themselves when snatches of conversation were a jumble was a harder task; hoping that my newly acquired acting skills distracted them from my hearing problems – after all, being deaf was something I thought happened to older people as a natural progression, not to young adults like me. Little did I realise at this time was that the grieving process had already begun and that I was at the very cusp of mourning the person that I no longer was or was ever going to become.

            Children have a bizarrely accurate way of summing up a situation which adults often find challenging to articulate. I can vividly recall a conversation which I had with my then 5 year old daughter. It was on one of those days when things seem to be almost perfect, with all the clichés intact. The sky was cloudless and an amazing shade of blue, the surrounding countryside was beginning to flush out the weariness of winter with a spray paint of dazzling green. I was driving my little one home from school, chattering away about the day when I happened to mention that mummy was thinking of getting some hearing aids to help make her hear better. Almost immediately the atmosphere changed from being bright and sunny to ominously dark and foreboding. “I don’t want a mummy who wears black corks in her ears,” said my sweet little girl with a frown on her face. I can remember feeling as though I had been physically kicked in my stomach as we continued the journey home in silence, my head spinning with the thought that my child wanted a normal mummy, not one with an impairment.

            No matter what changes are taking place in our lives the days, weeks and months continue to pass whether we like it or not. Unfortunately for me my hearing loss reached the point where I could no longer pretend that it wasn’t affecting my life and my tentative steps into the ‘deaf’ world began. Something needed to be done. Looking back now it seems quite clear that an element of acceptance about my new situation was entering my consciousness, though at the time I can recall feeling like a reluctant toddler who wanted to stamp their feet in utter frustration. Endless hearing tests became an enduring feature of my life together with the frequent trips to the local audiology department with its posters advertising sign language classes and deaf clubs, which make me laugh for all the wrong reasons as you never see ‘hearing clubs’ advertised! To this day I have an incredibly bittersweet relationship with the audiology department. Part of me is totally humbled with gratitude that such places exist and that I am provided with hearing aids which give me some semblance of a life. The other part of me hates and despises the place as my visits, even years later, frustrate and depress me due to the fact that I know the staff will never be able to provide me the ultimate cure, a pair of fully functioning ears.

          

And so the countdown to "implantation" begins...

So today, with just 16 sleeps to go, I'm going to start letting you into my inner ramblings on my journey towards Cochlear Implantation.

For those who don't know me - "Hello!" - thanks for joining me on what I expect to be the roller coster ride to end all roller coaster rides.

So yes, here I am - 37 years young (wife, mum of two, full-time employee and some time Masters student) - no hearing left, hoping to make the best of a not-so-great situation.