My Cochlear Implant Story: Part 16 – The Worst Hearing Test

Sitting in the soundproof room, desperately trying to decipher the faint traces of words, I became more despondent with every attempt.

Just over 9 months post-activation, my cochlear implant (CI) adventure had brought its fair share of ups and downs, but this experience topped the bottom of the charts.

It was a standard hearing test at the hospital where I had my surgery. This would be the first hearing test for my hospital notes. My MED-EL audiologist (an audiologist from MED-EL, the company that makes my cochlear implant) and the hospital seem to operate quite separately, which I find peculiar. Since activation day, my hearing tests have been carried out by my audiologist, who always explains each step clearly so I know what to expect. The results today would update my ENT department records. 

The test started off familiarly, testing my hearing ear with the usual beeps. Next, we moved on to my CI testing, and I carried out a beep test through my CI. To make sure my hearing ear didn’t pick up sound from the speaker on my CI side, a headphone cup played loud white noise, like rushing wind. This meant my hearing ear only heard the rushing wind, while I concentrated my listening efforts on the CI side. It can be difficult concentrating on listening for sounds over the sound of the wind, and adding tinnitus to the mix makes it even more of a challenge. I often wonder if there is a better way of testing for single-sided deafness (SSD). I wonder if testing a CI by streaming sound only to the implant would be more accurate. This would mean there would be no need to play white noise into the hearing ear, as only the implant side would have access to the noise. Still, there were no surprises during the beep test. I’m used to the process.

Finally came the word recognition test. Normally, my audiologist plays the words at a relatively loud listening level so that I can hear them and we can focus on my understanding of speech rather than the volume. (At my last appointment, my word recognition score was 80%, which I was thrilled about.) As he always tells me: hearing levels can be turned up, but what matters is whether my brain can make sense of the sound. At 9 months post-activation, I’m not yet at optimal volume levels. My Medel audiologist has been gradually increasing my CI volume, which I’ve been very happy about. After eight years without sound on my left side, a slow reintroduction felt like the right plan for me. 

But this test was different. A very quiet voice said something which I assumed was a word. I was taken by surprise. Why was it so quiet?

“It’s very quiet,” I told the audiologist. 

“Just try,” she said as the words continued. 

The words were in Spanish as usual, not my mother tongue, adding another layer of difficulty. I started attempting to repeat what I heard, but nothing I said was a real Spanish word. With each word, my positivity dwindled a little bit more. I felt like a child making up a foreign language. For some words, I even just shrugged. I have never done this before in a hearing test – always eager to do my best – but felt myself failing so badly that I just wanted it to stop. 

There were two more rounds of word recognition testing at slightly louder volumes, though not loud enough for me to confidently repeat even one word back. Each time I told the audiologist, I could hardly hear the words. I waited for a fourth round, assuming the volume would be raised to the levels I’m used to. But it never came.

Had there been one more round at the louder volume I’m used to, I would have left with some optimism. If it had been explained beforehand that the test would use very quiet words, unlike what I’m used to, I would have felt less upset. Had I been given an extra 30 seconds of testing at a louder volume, my whole immediate mindset following the test would have been so different to how I actually felt: flat, despondent, a failure.

Within minutes, my hearing levels and word recognition scores had been documented. My hospital records will forever show this, the worst hearing test I’ve ever had. And that’s the only snapshot they’ll have of my CI journey so far.

It doesn’t show the times I’ve turned to my deaf side when my partner has called me. It doesn’t show how music is evolving into something I can now enjoy. It doesn’t show how I can watch a TED Talk almost completely without captions. It doesn’t show the energy and determination I have put into this process. It doesn’t show the absolute joy and hope my cochlear implant brings me.