Posted by Wow, it’s been a whole year since my cochlear implant (CI) surgery. I have just read the blog post I wrote a few days after surgery, and the actual day feels like a lifetime ago, yet having a cochlear implant still feels very new to me.
Recently, knowing that my one-year anniversary was approaching, I’ve been reflecting on the past year and also talking to loved ones about whether they have noticed any changes in me since I’ve had my CI.
My sister mentioned she’d noticed I can hear her and her partner better when we’re outside together. We spend a lot of time walking in the Yorkshire countryside during my visits, and I’ve started to catch more of the conversation.
My boyfriend told me he thinks I am more self-assured and confident in everyday life. He has also noticed I’m not leaning in as much with my hearing ear in conversations, which is a coping mechanism I have developed over the years. With my right elbow on the table and my hand under my chin, keeping my head angled toward the speaker, I would find myself leaning in closer and closer with the increase in background noise.
This was highlighted during a trip to visit my boyfriend’s family. On the journey home, he commented that I seemed to deal with conversations with his family with more ease. He reminded me of times in the past when I struggled with listening fatigue. After social events or conversations that required a high degree of listening effort due to background noise or the person having a strong accent, speaking in Spanish, or both, I would feel mentally drained. Often, I would need to have some quiet time to myself or take a nap to recharge. He knows these situations are still not easy for me, but he also notices a change. The effort needed to follow a conversation in challenging listening environments, though still demanding, is less than before getting my ear. He talked about “protection,” which I understand as having awareness on my deaf side again. This awareness allows my shoulders to relax, my breathing to calm, and me to approach conversations more comfortably, not always checking my deaf side to see if there is something I should be aware of.
It can be difficult to judge the impact of my CI when I am living every moment, and when improvements and changes are gradual. The first time it really struck me on this trip how much my cochlear implant helps me navigate noisy, busy environments was at the airport. I turned off my processor before going through security. (I’d read somewhere that it can sometimes pick up interference from the metal detector and squeal, and I didn’t fancy that happening in the middle of the airport.) As soon as I turned it off, my surroundings became quieter, muffled, as though a bubble had encased me, hindering my understanding of my environment. In a moment, I had no idea if someone was standing on my deaf side or whether anyone was shouting instructions at me, and I felt immediately vulnerable. My other senses kicked in, and I switched to high alert mode. I started scanning the area for signs of people’s lips moving or their eyes focusing on me. I checked the area around my body for people. My boyfriend commented later that I looked visibly disorientated. As soon as I was through security, I turned my ear back on and was hit with a tremendous amount of sonic information, which my brain quickly filed into the normal pile.
It was also on the first day of this 4-day trip that I realised I did not have my processor charger with me. This meant I would be without my ear for much of my time away from home. I wore my processor for the whole of the first day, and then for a few hours on day 2 and day 3, prioritising more challenging listening situations to use the remaining battery. Though I was able to enjoy the time away and communicate effectively, the amount of effort it took was noticeably more than if I had been wearing my processor. I used my understanding of lip movements and body language, cadence and voice tone to enhance the audio information I could hear in conversations. I see these skills as a superpower that my hearing loss enabled me to develop. But employing superpowers takes energy, and I was considerably more tired throughout the days.
My implant has given me more awareness, more ease, more confidence in my surroundings. As with every part of my hearing loss and gain experience, I am reminded of the emotional impact of hearing changes. Learning to hear again has been, and continues to be, challenging, frustrating, time-consuming, and absolutely exhausting; I have fallen asleep during rehab on more than one occasion. But learning to hear has also been surprising, exciting, motivating, hopeful, and magical. Experiencing new environments, such as visiting the north of Spain for a summer holiday and hearing the clanging of cow bells, birdsong, babbling streams, and footsteps on gravel, all in stereo, are highlights of this year that make my heart swell with gratitude. I still have moments where I hear and feel the sensation of sound in my deaf ear and realise that this ear that lay dormant for over 8 years is now alive, eager to learn, and vibrant with sound. Though the experience of sound in my deaf ear still feels like a new adventure, I cannot imagine my life without my ear, my little hearing robot on the side of my head.
I am not yet at my peak. I am still making progress in my aural rehabilitation, though improvements aren’t as dramatic as they were in the early days after Activation Day. I still use a mix of different apps for my rehab, and I’ve been working through the first Harry Potter book by listening to voice messages my sister sends me on WhatsApp. I have finally started listening to an audiobook, without captions! I chose a memoir by the chef Rick Stein called Under a Mackerel Sky. I have always liked the soothing tones of his voice, and when I was choosing an audiobook and listening to various narrators, his voice came through to my processor loud and clear. I listen for around 10-15 minutes most days, and am managing to follow it well, understanding around 80–90 per cent. Looking back on the alien sounds of voices in the early days of rehabilitation, I have come so far in my ability to make sense of speech. Music remains a bit of a puzzle for me, one I keep chipping away at, slowly, with curiosity. I enjoy listening to music through my processor, and though it does not sound as it does in my hearing ear, it has a specialness that continues to surprise me. Strong beats fill me with joy when I hear them in my deaf ear, and the more I listen, the better the music sounds.
I couldn’t write a reflection post without mentioning Deafmetal and their jewellery and safety solutions. My safety rings, cuff and chains have played such an important part in making my ear feel more like mine. I sometimes knock my processor off when I’m getting dressed, pulling a jumper over my head, or in the middle of a hug. The safety chain means that if it’s dislodged, it simply hangs safely from my ear, rather than falling. My Deafmetals have also given me a way to have some fun with accessorising and to show some of my personality through my device. I always have my processor on show. I want people to see it. To recognise that I have hearing loss. To ask questions. To start the conversation. My Deafmetals have helped me feel more proud of my deaf identity.
The day I met another Rondo 3 processor user will stay with me as one of my highlights this year. There is a connection with others who know the thought processes that come before, during and after CI surgery. The psychological impact of everyday challenges of communicating verbally in a hearing world, where you don’t quite fit. The loneliness in mishearing, misunderstanding, or feeling completely lost in a conversation. The joy and hope in having access to a new type of sound. The confusion, the work, the determination, the overwhelm, making sensory memories, and the highs and lows of trying to get the best out of your hearing device. Deciding how you want to wear your device, and getting used to people whose gaze pauses an extra moment on the side of your head. Looking forward, I aim to seek out opportunities to meet more people in the CI community to share hearing loss stories with.
As someone with single-sided deafness, I can live life with just one ear, and I did so happily for 8 years. Life without a CI would still go on; I could get by without it, but I would miss it dearly. The world is fuller, brighter and more colourful with my CI. I’m so grateful, and the sounds of everyday life in stereo are so precious to me. Finding the best hearing device is such a personal decision, and what works for one person may not for another. I feel so fortunate to have found mine in my little robotic ear, which still doesn’t have a fitting name, and will always be my ear.
Supporting Others on Their CI Journey
As many of you know, I’ve been working as a hearing loss coach for some time, supporting people in various aspects of life with hearing loss. More recently, I’ve added a new service focused specifically on one-to-one support for people going through their own cochlear implant experiences. This can include helping you prepare for surgery, adjust to life post-activation, stay motivated with rehab, or simply having someone to talk to who understands the ups and downs of the process. If you’d like to learn more or get in touch, you can find details here.
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My Hearing Loss Story 
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