Monday, June 18, 2012

Forgetting to hear.

I was up, showered, shampooed, blow-dried, teeth brushed, eyeglassed, dressed, jewelried, and on my way out the door this morning when I realized I was still deaf.

On my walk to work - the CI processor now in place - I reflected on how exactly that could happen. How could I forget to hear?

I suppose there are late-deafened people like me who can't stand not wearing the processor. It's probably the first thing they reach for on waking up.

I find that - within reason - I transition very well between both states. And after several hours of being deaf - when sleeping, or swimming - I'm quite comfortable navigating the world not hearing. So much so that I can apparently forget to "turn hearing on" when I'm able to.

That's not to say I'd be comfortable without the option! The couple of times a component of the processor has failed - a wire broke, for example - I've been in a cold-sweat panic until the problem was solved.

But the fact is, when you've been there for a few hours - optionally - deafness is a very peaceful state. So much so that here's a secret: I don't enjoy putting the processor on in the morning.

Oh, I am enormously grateful for it! And, as I said, I'd have a panic attack if I put it on and it didn't work!

But it does work, and putting it on is just, honestly, not a terribly pleasant experience. You go from total silence to a sudden - LOUD - cacophony of noises, from the traffic on the street to the electricity humming through the appliances. The world is very, very loud. Having it hit you all at once is not a particularly pleasurable sensation.

I am grateful, enormously grateful, every single day for the miracle of the processor. But that first few seconds after activation is the thorn on the rose.

Perhaps that's unique to me. I don't know. It's just an observation. And I hope I never have to learn about the alternative.


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Saturday, June 09, 2012

The Dude Abides

 Looking back through blog posts, I am astonished to see it is over a year since Mojo was diagnosed with the early stages of chronic renal failure.

 Been a long road since then for all of us. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd learn to do sub-cutaneous fluid treatments, I would have said, "Not while there's a professional left in the world who's capable."
After a rough start and some intense negotiations, he is as good as gold for his sub-q treatments now. Husband barely has to restrain him. He sits as still as he can; impatience still ripples under his skin. But he is oh, so good.

We weighed him tonight. 8 lbs, steady as a rock.

And he is healthy. Approximately 6-7 small meals a day, received with enthusiasm. Plays with his catnip toys every day. Snoozes in his little round bed, on the big family bed, or on his favourite plaid blankie inbetweentimes.

Doing well. Knock wood.