Cochlear implant

MY COCHLEAR IMPLANT: THE 3-MONTH AUDIOLOGY EVALUATION – Garry Armstrong

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LEARNING TO HEAR by Garry Armstrong, 
Photography: Marilyn Armstrong

Sing “Hallelujah” softly and this year, I will hear you. Crystal clear!

One of many hearing tests

That’s the lead on a delightfully mild Monday as I look back on today’s evaluation of my Cochlear Implant at UMass Memorial Hospital.

It was like getting an A on your first major exam in college.

Nicole Seymour, audiologist on the job!

Last week, I got excellent grades at the surgical evaluation of the Cochlear procedure. All the stuff placed inside my brain was line-dancing with the receiver parts atop my head and right ear. No unseemly scars, bumps or rashes. Even my fast receding hairline appears to be flourishing.

Is this a side perk?

Garry in the booth, listening to the test signals

Today was a detailed session of testing and adjustments. I sat in a small room that looks like Interrogation Room 1 on NCIS, but with more electronic equipment. I went through a series of tests administered by my audiologist. The tests involved various levels of single-word recognition, complete sentence awareness, and range of tone comprehension.

It’s harder than you think.

Putting the equipment on again

If you’re hearing-challenged, which is to say, deaf, you have problems with all these things. Single words that rhyme – led, dead, bread, red are easily confused. Whole sentences are often misinterpreted, sometimes leading to misunderstanding and embarrassment. High and low tones aren’t audible. I couldn’t tell the difference, so statements and questions sounded the same.

Consultation

I sat tensely – my body coiled – as I sat for decades during my TV news career. Struggling with interviews, courtroom testimonies, and pivotal political speeches. My breath came in rushes because I wanted to be successful.  A lot rides on the cochlear implant. At age 76, this is a major turning point. 

I can experience clear hearing for the first time in my life.

I clearly heard many of the words, sentences, and sounds.  But some of it was guesswork, just as it was throughout my working years. I could feel my body tighten as I wondered how well I was doing.

Nicole setting the levels on the implant headset

Progress or not?  I’ve been working hard with the cochlear implant. I wanted progress very badly.

Tools of the trade

When it came time for evaluation, the audiologist gave no facial hints. I was tense and nervous. She slowly and clearly told Marilyn and me that my progress was substantial with major improvements in all the areas tested. Some of the improvement was huge, some more moderate. But everything was better.

I smiled inwardly which turned into a broad smile that could have lit the room.

Filling in the forms

My cochlear implant and the hearing aid in my left ear were adjusted to give me more audio on 5 levels. She expected I would probably not want (or need) the strongest (loudest) level, but it was there, just in case. The new “bottom” level was the top of my previous levels. Go, Garry!

Setting the new levels on gear

In the coming weeks and months, Marilyn and I will be attending several large events where there will be many people, lots of background noise including live music — the dread of anyone who has trouble dealing with background noise. These events will be powerful tests for my implant.

More tests

What’s more, these are exactly the events that I dreaded before the cochlear implant surgery.

Now, I am eagerly looking forward to them.

Hallelujah! Time to celebrate!

ANOTHER DAY AT UMASS – Marilyn Armstrong

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It’s another one of those lost days for us. This is Garry’s official 3-month audiological checkup. I’m expecting great things.  I’m charging my little camera because this time, I am remembering my own excellent advice:

NEVER GO ANYWHERE WITHOUT A CAMERA

my camera because even though it makes the bag more than a little bit heavy, you just never know. Pictures just happen.

I am due for at least one smiling photograph of Garry and his audiologist.

I’ll tell you all about it, but today, I’m going to be missing in action.

Sorry. I don’t think we get a normal week until sometime in January! And then, I’ve got a book competition to judge. Maybe in February?

DOCTOR AND PATIENT – Marilyn Armstrong

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Today was Garry’s 3-month post-operative surgical appointment at UMass hospital.

He hasn’t had any problems at all with the surgery. Actually, he has not had any trouble with the process, except for the minor detail that every day is a surprise. Each new sound is something he has to recognize, then classify.

He hears the squeaky ball that Duke is chewing. He hears the trucks pulling into the driveway. He recognizes the opening and closing of the gate downstairs. He can hear his own breathing and finds it distracting. We all assure him he will learn to filter that kind of sound, as well as many other ordinary sounds that the rest of us automatically don’t notice.

It takes a lot of work to learn to hear when you are 76. Sounds that the rest of us have always recognized, he is hearing for the first time. It’s a lot of work and a lot of mental processing.

Garry and Dr. Remenschneider. When your doctor is not much older than your grandchild, you know you’ve put on a few years.

It can be a bit exhausting for him. I suspect sometimes all he wants is that old familiar silence where no one expects him to answer because they know he didn’t hear them.

Today he picked up the phone when it rang … and he heard it. He hates telephones and has for a very long time. It has a lot to do with getting calls from work at all hours of the day and night. Over the years it became a bit of a phobia. Hopefully, he will get over it. Because all of us deserve to have to listen to the other electric company’s spiel on how they will lower our rates (no they won’t). At least the political season is over for a couple of months so the surveyors won’t be calling. That’s something.

Dr. Aaron Remenschneider – and a great surgeon!

On the positive side, I am (finally) not the only one who wonders what that weird noise is in the basement. Also, when we have an argument, he knows what I said — which is not always ideal.

He is not the only one who has to learn new things. I have lost my role as permanent interpreter, which to be fair, I’m glad to lose. I have not lost my role in telling people to please speak up, especially the receptionists in the Hearing Clinic.

They speak so softly, I can barely hear them. Meanwhile, the people they are talking to are actually in the process of trying to learn to hear. I figure they should speak up. Put a little diaphragmatic air into your larynx and push it out through your vocal cords. That’s what makes it possible for others else to hear you.

It’s what speakers are taught. Actors and reporters, too. Sometimes, you don’t have a microphone. You just have you.

Okay, among other things, I was a speech major. Actually, I have a degree in it. I have never used the degree for anything except telling other people to “please speak up!”

Doctor and patient. Hint: the doctor is wearing white.

Garry is quite the star of the Otolaryngology Department. He can hear remarkably well for just three months into the program.

I expected him to be a star. When Garry works at something, he really works at it. He had to learn to speak properly with significant deafness. He learned it well enough to be on television every day for many years. So given this challenge, I knew he’d work at it as hard as he has ever worked at anything else in his life.

The hard work paid off. He can hear. I wish he had this option in his life many years earlier but if ever the expression “better late than never” had relevance, now is that moment.

Next week, he has his three-month audiological checkup. I bet he’s going to be a star.

HEARING, IMPLANTS — AND WHAT’S THAT SOUND? – Marilyn Armstrong

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A couple of days ago, Garry had his one-month follow-up for his cochlear implant.

It’s hard to believe it’s just one month since the gear went on his head for the first time and it’s also hard to believe how much change there has been in his ability to hear in just one month.

I wish I had numbers of the actual percentage of change for each type of sound. Some of them were really shockingly good. My favorite was his ability to understand a complete phrase — something with context rather than a single word without context which went from zero — nothing — to 76%. That was the gigantic jump. It gave me goosebumps.

Individual words — no context — was closer to 50% (from zero). The hard one — the one which is always going to be a problem — was hearing what someone said when there is background noise, the kind you hear in a restaurant where a lot of people are talking. That was up to 20% from zero. I’m not sure if that will ever “top the charts” since as we get older — and by this I mean a collective “we” — our ability to hear one voice above many other sounds will diminish.

I won’t go to a restaurant where they constantly play music. I never liked it even when I was younger because it made conversation difficult. Since “going out to dinner” is one of the most common ways people get to know each other, why make it so much harder to hear the other person speaking? And this was when I had normal (if not slightly better than normal) hearing.

These days, I don’t hear as well as I did a few years back. I sometimes miss the beep from kitchen timers, and when the three dogs are barking, I can’t hear anything. I dislike noisy restaurants and live music when I’m out to eat will make me run from the room with my hands over my ears.

I suspect the music (especially loud music) played in restaurants is more to keep the staff moving than for the benefit of customers. I’m here to point out that it drives customers away.

I have a weird feeling that eventually, Garry with all his electronic gear in place will hear better than me.

Won’t that be an interesting turn of events!

Meanwhile, Garry can — in a quiet room — have a pretty normal conversation with a small group of people. How he will do at a party or in a large group? Or anyplace with nonstop background noise and music? Probably not so well. Otherwise, though, he can hear. The rain on the roof. The rush of a waterfall in the distance. The buzz of the washer and dryer in the basement and he can tell the difference between the washer (loud) and the dryer (soft).

He can hear the lyrics to songs assuming the lyrics are audible. He can watch TV with regular sound, not headphones — and is discovering that just because you are paid a lot to be a sportscaster doesn’t mean you don’t mumble.

It’s good news all the way around. He is doing as well as expected in most areas and better than most in several. Listening is more like work for Garry than for me. He has to try harder to catch the sounds, but the more he works at it, the better he gets.

But please, don’t everybody talk at once!

BRACE YOURSELF! GONNA BE A LONG DAY – Marilyn Armstrong

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RDP THURSDAY – BRACE

It’s going to be a long day. Any time we have to get up early for one of these extended audiological checkups for Garry’s cochlear implant, it’s going to take a while. This is the one-month followup and I believe it will all be good news.

I also am pretty sure he needs a tune-up, especially for his left (the non-cochlear) ear because — how ironic! — that’s the one through which he hears much less than in the “new, rebuilt” ear.

We didn’t get that “sudden” moment when he just says “Oh, wow, I can hear.” More like realizing that he can hear the rain on the roof — and it’s loud! He didn’t know rain could be so loud. Or hear the beep from the microwave in the kitchen, the funny scrunchy noise you hear when The Duke has found something hard and plastic to chew on. The buzz the washer and dryer give from the basement and realizing he can tell the difference between the loud buzz (washer) and softer buzz (dryer).

How LOUD the dogs really are! And that he still won’t answer the telephone or even try. He hates the phone and I don’t think he will ever entirely recover because he hated them even when he could hear on one.

Finally, having an actual conversation with a total stranger in the grocery store when normally, he’d not even have heard her say “hello,” much less indulged in a conversation about whether or not it’s possible to not have failed to mention a sexual assault for 36 years. His answer being, “Absolutely. I remember how terrified those women were when I tried to talk to them.” Because he covered a lot of domestic violence calls and the story was always the same — women terrified, men hostile.

Our police chief told us that the most dangerous calls they make are for domestic violence. Those are the ones where a cop is most likely to be injured and also the cases that will never go to court, nor justice be done.

And me thinking there were things I’d never told Garry yet because all it would do it upset him and there was no reason dredge up old misery. Women don’t tell their men things. We don’t want to upset them if there’s nothing to be done to fix it — and they get extremely, sometimes lethally upset. Who needs that?

Having a reasonably normal conversation with a friend … and not having to say “what” a dozen times.

Discovering he can still take off his new hearing aids, put back the headphones and ignore me for a joyful few hours. Drat. I should never have pointed out he could do that!

It will be a long day and Garry’s not feeling well. Tomorrow we go for blood tests and find out what — if anything other than hay fever and age — is the problem. So let’s brace ourselves for two long days!

UPDATE: WEEK 2 – ACTIVATED COCHLEAR IMPLANT – Garry Armstrong

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I feel like I should be singing “Getting To Know You” as I write this update.

It’s the beginning of the second week, wearing my activated cochlear implant.  It’s Saturday,  the first day of the 9th month.  If you sing “September Song”, I could probably hear most of the lyrics.   Maybe I’ll listen to Walter Houston’s memorable rendition of that melancholy song later today.

September is usually special because we celebrate our Wedding Anniversary and granddaughter Kaitlin’s birthday along with keeping eyes (and now ears) on our Boston Red Sox, hoping they can finish their 6-month marathon with a pennant championship en route to the World Series.

This September Sabbath began on a down note.  Blame it on the weather.  I’d planned on taking in a town event, “Uxbridge Day”, which figured to give my cochlear implant a public test,  mingling with dozens of people on our town square. Between the hot weather, an Excedrin Plus headache, and general fatigue from this long week prompted me to cancel plans.

We’ll hold off on the cochlear implant public début for a while.

Yesterday,  I received my first evaluation on the cochlear surgery and performance of the week-old activated parts. Marilyn and I shared our response to how I fared during the first week of my new hearing.

They were mixed reviews.  The audiologist did some tweaking, essentially giving me more volume. Now, I’m hearing louder bells, whistles, chimes, echoes and other “ghosts noises.”  I’m told these noises will fade in 3-months to a year as I adjust to this new way of hearing.

I’m from Missouri.  I’ll believe it when it happens.

Marilyn and I have discussed how we communicate with each other. This is a bonus because people with normal hearing have similar problems but rarely discuss it for fear of marital discord.  Who’s at fault? No one.

I feel as if I should be singing “Getting To Know You.” No, I don’t feel like Yul Brynner, King of Siam. I’m becoming more comfortable with my cochlear implant exterior parts. It’s somewhat awkward for me connecting the battery to the transmitter which sits atop my head and sends signals to “base headquarters” inside my head.

Usually, I need Marilyn’s help.  Today, I did it MYSELF!  Hallelujah!  It felt so good. I patted myself on the head, careful not to dislodge the transmitter.  Marilyn cut out a piece of my hair so it would be easier to find a landing spot, making it easier for the magnets inside the transmitter to secure a spot on my head.  Like a spaceship landing on Mars.

As I write, I’m getting mostly “ghost chimes” in my brain and ear. It’s peaceful.  The dogs are not barking. The TV is in repose.  All is calm.

So far, so good.

FIRST DAY: ACTIVATING THE COCHLEAR IMPLANT – Garry Armstrong

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After 76 years, 4 months and 18 days of hearing impairment, aka deafness, I can HEAR in both ears. Sing Hallelujah. But hold the applause. We’re not home yet.

Right ear. This is where all the sound data is collected to be transmitted to the implant and then, the brain

I’m going to need a trim to my hair soon. It’s not easy finding my head and the magnets

I’m writing the morning after the cochlear implant parts were activated in my head. During activation,  I felt a little like “the creature” in “Young Frankenstein”.   We had a prelude where the audiologist carefully explained how to assemble the cochlear “accessories,”  how to place them on my head and in my ears. Marilyn was watching closely. Good thing because I was quietly panicking. I’ve never been good doing the simplest of assemblies. I’m very clumsy.

I was as anxious as a Red Sox mid-inning reliever.

After the tutorial, several dry runs, and increasing anxiety, all the parts were in place and activated.  All this came after lengthy audio tests to determine how loud my new ears should be.

I braced myself with everything in place.

The cochlear parts are for my right ear, the “bad ear” which gives me very little audio. I have a new hearing aid in my left ear, the “good ear” which is supposed to enhance the cochlear parts.

I’ll give you in my rookie wearer understanding. The devices you see entwined around my right ear collect audio signals and send them to a “transmitter” which, with magnets, sits on the side of my head. The transmitter sends those signals into my head,  to the “implant” which was inserted via surgery.  Okay so far?  Oh, and there are magnets in my head so the headpiece will stay in place. Magnets. In my head.

So far, so good.

I breathed loudly as everything was activated. The voices of Marilyn and the audio technician were very tinny.  I could hear Marilyn’s voice more clearly. She had more “body” in her words than the technician, who I could also hear clearly, but she has a thin, rather reedy voice. I tried to relax my body and let myself really hear what was being said.

Left side with the new hearing aid. Smaller than the old one. This part of the gear needs some work

Relaxation is key. All my life, I’ve physically strained to hear. Leaned forward to catch what people were saying.  It’s difficult and physically exhausting.

It’s been my norm for 76 years. Now, I had to try and change that life-long habit. I sat with my back to Marilyn and the technician to test how well I could hear without seeing the people talking and read their lips as I usually do.

Usually, I can’t hear Marilyn if I am not directly facing her. It’s produced years of frustration for both of us. I could hear, my back turned away, both Marilyn and the audiologist. (Insert applause here.)

Sort of “normal” Garry from the front. The backpack came with all the “stuff” packed into it including the implant gear, a backup set of that gear, all those tiny little tools you need for working with hearing aids, charger, a whole set of “foreign” plugs for when (ahem) we travel to far off places … and a drying to get the humidity out of the unit. A GREAT idea!

Still, the voices were tinny and they echoed. As I responded to questions,  my voice sounded clear, full of that crispness and authority that’s familiar to TV News viewers. (Insert laughter here). That my own voice sounded perfectly normal is a good sign. It means that my brain is recognizing my voice and turning it into “normal” sounds. Probably Marilyn’s voice will be next. Familiar voices become “normal” much faster than the rest of the world and some may never sound entirely normal.

I allowed myself a brief smile of satisfaction.  It was very brief because I was also hearing bells and whistles, like a train was approaching the station. It was bizarre. The audiologist nodded as I explained what I was hearing.

She said it was normal. That I probably would hear those noises for “some time” as I wore the cochlear parts in various situations. Reporter Garry wanted a time frame.  How long? No easy answer, but she said — in round figures — about three months.

We went over how I should adjust to using my new ears and the various parts, inside and outside of my head. My brain was swirling but, fortunately, Marilyn was absorbing the information. We made an appointment for an evaluation.  I thought a week might be too quick but now I’m glad because I have lots of questions.

During the drive home yesterday, I was able to talk to Marilyn with minimal “what’s?”   Call it an early triumph.

We were greeted by the boisterous barking of our three dogs.  Yes, they were very loud.  Their yaps and growls were “enhanced” with echoes.

As we crashed, relaxed, and wolfed down late lunch sandwiches, I flipped on the television to baseball. The announcers sounded tinny with accompanying echoes. Their commentary was hard to understand. They were blasted by the crowd cheers.

I lowered the TV volume and things improved.  But I still heard echoes, bells, and whistles and the occasional chime mixed in with everything else.  Marilyn talking. Dogs barking.

I tried to mentally adjust. Slow down my intake of what Marilyn was saying.

That helped.  I’m so used to responding without really hearing. It’s a whole new ball game. As late afternoon turned into evening, I became more comfortable but I could not get rid of the echoes, bells and whistles.  Sometimes it also sounded like church bells tolling. For whom were they tolling?

There was one constant amid all the extra sounds. I could hear Marilyn’s words — not just muffled sounds.  Yes, there were a few “what did you say” moments, but a small number compared to life before the cochlear implant activation.

Marilyn took care of unloading my new backpack, filled with all the cochlear accessories, manuals, batteries.  She setup the battery charges and patiently walked me through everything.  Frankly, I had lost patience after the “first day”.  The echoes, bells and whistles had worn me down. I had an Excedrin Plus headache.  Marilyn seemed more pleased than me. I was excited about the events but physically drained — as was Marilyn who had to make sure we handled the cochlear parts correctly.

Looks like an odd version of a “smart” phone, doesn’t it?

We’re into day two. Against my objection, I’m wearing the cochlear parts. I complained, like a whiny kid, but Marilyn was firm that I not shy away from using my new ears even if I’m not comfortable.  I wanted to wait until I shaved and showered but that would’ve been just delaying what must be done. The audiologist was really pushy that I really had to wear them — all the time I was awake.

So, there you have it. Yes, it’s a different world for me now.  It’s a better world.

I just hope those bells are not tolling for me.

REFLEXIVE AND DEFINITELY NOT FLUFFY – Marilyn Armstrong

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Garry and I are off to UMass. Today he gets (tada!) his new electronic, high-tech hearing apparatus. We have NO idea what to expect. Hopes are high, nerves are taut, and it’s going to be a long day.

We shall write tomorrow, hopefully, but in the meantime, we’ll be gone most of the day.

Also, WordPress is acting weird. Again. I can’t use the “like” button and I have to sign in for every comment. But that’s okay because Chrome is behaving weirdly also. I’m ready to hide under the sofa.

Later, gang.

FOWC with Fandango — Reflex

RDP# 85: FLUFFY

IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN – CEE’S SHARE YOUR WORLD – Marilyn Armstrong

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Share Your World – August 13, 2018

I want to start off — again — with the Garry cochlear implant update.

He is doing better. He is less wobbly, can usually get up and down the stairs, but I’m glad we have a handrail. His ear is still sore.

Not internally, but externally and I suspect it’s his addiction to wearing headphones for watching television that is preventing it from healing as fast as it otherwise would. In the end, he’s a big boy.

He has to make his own decisions. I don’t think the irritation he’s causing is serious. There’s no sign of infection or oozing or any of the things that would normally alarm me, but it is definitely redder and more sore-looking than it was earlier in the week. It might be better if he left it to heal, but hey, it’s his ear.

Overall, things are gradually getting more normal. Not “normal, normal,” but close to what I think normal might be — for us.

Finally, we are close to his getting all that fancy techno-headgear that should enable him to really hear. Pretty exciting!

Garry will get his own superpower.

A class you wish you would have taken?

I still wish I’d taken a few photography courses so I’d have a better grip on the terminology of photography. I know how to do most of the stuff, but I often have no idea what it’s called. I took one course, a long time ago on wedding photography, but that was more than 50 years ago.

I decided to take a webinar given by Topaz this week on how to use the filters to make the pictures better, but more natural. There are a lot of free webinars online and I usually skip them because I’m at a point where “going to school” is on the bottom of my to-do list.

But since I don’t have to travel and it’s free, why not? Maybe I’ll learn something useful! Can’t hurt, can it?

Are you scared of heights?

Not as much as I was when I was younger. I get dizzy on the edge of a drop and I have what I think is a healthy fear of falling. That includes falling individually or falling in a car or on a horse or any old way.

Falling off horses is what did my spine in the first time around. I hesitate to imagine what it would do to me now.

Ouch.

Are you a good cook? If so, do you consider yourself a chef?

I’m a good cook. I’m definitely not a chef because I’m simply not careful about measuring quantities and reproducing the same recipe the same way each time — and that is the difference between a cook and a chef. (An actual chef taught me that.)

 

Measuring.

Making sure the same recipe comes out the same way each time. I’m much more of a “what do I have in the fridge?” kind of cook. With a couple of exceptions, I doubt any two meals of mine have ever come out the same twice!

What did you appreciate or what made you smile this past week? 

 

I was very happy with the Manhattan chowder. I should have cooked the bacon longer, but otherwise, it was as good as any red chowder I’ve ever tasted.

FANDANGO’S ONE WORD CHALLENGE – THE SETTING : DOCTORS! – Marilyn Armstrong

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FOWC with Fandango — Setting

Yesterday’s setting was Garry’s first post-surgical checkup at UMass Memorial. Today’s setting is going to be (in an hour from now) our regular family guy to see if we can get his blood pressure a little lower

Doctor’s office in Douglas

Mostly, it’s good news.

We discovered that he has residual hearing in his right ear and more of it than we expected. This is a good thing because it will make getting “natural” sounds in his “implanted” ear easier. The device with his own hearing will give him better highs and lows.

He won’t get all his super-high-tech equipment until August 24th, but the doctor is pretty sure he’s going to have good hearing fast. Like maybe immediately.

A sunny day in the backyard while the temperature is almost 100.

No one can explain how in the world he got Blue-Tooth from my speaker without external equipment, but he did. My speaker also has a small transmitter and Garry was wearing powered headphones, so something happened. But regardless, once he has all the rest of the gear, it won’t happen without special equipment.

Definitely the right shirt for the season. Do you think the extreme heat may have something to do with being tired? It’s really hot out there!

The incision is healed and all the wires and magnets and coils are in the right places in his head. Neat and clean. I’m trying to get him to send me a photograph of it, but we haven’t figured out how to turn the x-ray into a photograph. Yet. But I’ll keep trying. It’s really interesting.

Garry is very tired. He thinks it’s because he’s a “right-side” sleeper and that’s the ear that had the surgery. He hasn’t been able to sleep in a comfortable position since the surgery, but he can at this point if he wants to since everything is nicely healed.

He also looks sleepy all the time. I think he’s still got a bit of hangover from the anesthesia. He also needs to get back to doing normal stuff, including exercise. Sitting around all the time isn’t his most healthy choice.

Now, we wait another 18 days and then — magic.

He’s ready to go now and I don’t blame him, but they won’t put the technology in place until everything is 100% healed, so they always let it go slightly over a full month. Just to be sure.

Meanwhile, to keep him sane, the Red Sox are winning and it keeps him from watching the news and getting completely crazy.

I THINK WE’VE CROSSED THE BRIDGE – Marilyn Armstrong

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Tonight, Garry didn’t seem to need extra medication for pain. Even though I finally got a better prescription for him waiting at the pharmacy, I think he is over the really difficult part and is healing. I can hardly wait for him to start itching.

He was able to take a real shower today and wash his hair and everything. Carefully, but a whole shower, top to bottom. I suspect that made him feel a lot better. I know he is feeling better because he is whining about not being allowed to exercise. The more he complains, the better he feels.

He is still kind of dizzy. That’s because of the upset to his inner ear, so his balance is off. It will come back, but until it does he has to be careful and avoid stairs and such.

Overall, I think he’s doing pretty well. I also think that the reason he could hear the Bluetooth is that he was wearing powered headphones. Power is power. It was not the “official” power of the “official” headset, but it still had a couple of strong batteries in it. I’m betting if he weren’t wearing the headphones, there would be nothing from the Bluetooth … but he isn’t taking the headset off, so it’s a moot point. Glad I bought a decent set of headphones of my own!

So, he is complaining, I am doing my best to make him feel better, and I think all is about as well as it can be at this point in the process. The complaining is definitely a sign of improvement.

I expect increased complaints as he feels better.

CAN I COMPETE WITH A ZING? – Marilyn Armstrong

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My Brain Has Gone Off-Duty

I feel like my brain is too tired to go on.

You know how you feel when your muscles have seized up and you simply can’t walk any further? That is how my brain feels. As if it has walked too many miles and it has had quite enough.

Too much thinking.

Too much planning.

Too much organizing.

Too many bizarre questions to answer.

Too many strange problems to solve.

Too many “on hold” phone calls with no return calls, disconnects, no doctor or practitioner to talk to.

Too many issues to deal with.

Too few answers to too many questions.

Today, I’m crabby, out of answers, and tired of being told to call some other (non-answering) number that will connect me with yet another person who thinks I should speak to the doctor but won’t connect me to him or a colleague.

University of Medicine and roads

So competition with my old zing? It isn’t working today. I lack any kind of zing and frankly, going into a long siege of competition to get hold of the doctor or ANY doctor, is more than I can handle.

I am going to make some coffee. Drink some coffee, and brood on why I hate this hospital, even though they are the nicest people in the world. Hard to be both, isn’t it?

You’d think that.

FOWC with Fandango — Compete
RDP # 53 – Zing

A TIMELY AND ESSENTIAL DAY – Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 24 Comments

Time, Bluetooth, and an Essential Day

(As opposed to an “inessential day” without time?)

If there’s such thing as an “inessential day,” I’d like to know what that is. These days, if I wake up and manage to struggle out of bed and find something to wear, that is an essential day. Time is a definite part of the essentialness of any day because not a whole lot gets done if one is lacking time.

If after that, I do a few things that seem worth the effort, I’ve moved beyond essential into “productive.” If somehow I do something of which I am proud, I am approaching “unforgettable.” I think it’s possible I’ve hit unforgettable today, although mostly, I got there by making other things disappear.

Last night, I realized the ringing in Garry’s ears was audible. To me. If it was regular old tinnitus, I couldn’t hear it. But this was loud and my hearing is far from perfect. In fact, it was very loud. Annoying loud.

The thing is, real tinnitus can’t be heard by anyone but the person who has it stuck in his or her head. If I could hear it sitting next to him, it meant he had something called “objective tinnitus.” In other words, it isn’t tinnitus. Something is triggering the noise. Something real. Sort of like hardware versus software.

Now, all I needed to do was figure out what that thing might be.

Garry, still pretty loopy from anesthesia, seemed to be mad at me for not nailing the problem and immediately fixing it. I was not exactly in my comfort zone, technically or medically. But since he wasn’t behaving rationally, I decided to breathe deeply and try to work it out.

The first thing I checked was his hearing aid.

No more of these!

It was chiming. And really loud. It sounded like melodious chimes on an old grandfather clock. Garry had said it did sound like chimes and sometimes, like a lot of small car horns beeping at the same time (he referenced a particularly funny scene in “A Shot In The Dark” (Peter Sellers).

I was pretty sure the hearing aid wasn’t supposed to be doing that.

Since all of this started when my Bluetooth speaker decided to connect with his brain the previous evening, I decided to start by reducing the amount of Bluetooth in the house. This turned out to be a lot more complicated than I imagined possible.

Sometimes I forget how many wireless things live in our house. We aren’t nearly as connected as other people’s houses are, but it was still a lot of stuff.  All of which are emitting Bluetooth signals. Just in the living room, there were four computers — including Garry’s iPad and Kindle — as well as the DVD player which has its own Bluetooth setting.

The speaker is the long box in front of the television — and it is definitely Bluetooth.

The television speakers have a Bluetooth signal. We don’t use it. We simply plug it into the TV, so it works like a standard pre-wireless speaker, but the signal is still there whether we use it or not. There were also three small devices plugged in (two in the living room and one in the kitchen) supposedly designed to scare mice out of the walls of the house. Obviously ineffective since we had a house full of mouses.

On any Apple product, you turn off Bluetooth by finding the settings, locating the Bluetooth setting, and turning it off. If you change your mind, you can turn it back on. I turned it off on Garry’s iPad, then on the Kindle (almost as easy) and later on my Macbook.

I pulled the three little anti-mouse emitters out of the wall. Short of unplugging the DVD player, I couldn’t find an answer for that, so I moved into the bedroom where I turned of the Bluetooth on my Kindle and computer and removed another anti-mouse thing from the bathroom.

Somewhere in there, I also went and turned off the wireless Canon printer.

PCs used to have a Bluetooth setting like on the Mac. A simple on/off clicker. Now, you have to find the device manager then individually disable each Bluetooth device.

I’ve got two devices on my computer and I use neither of them. Belay that. I cannot be sure of that until the next time I try to use the printer, which is at the other end of the house. Is that a Bluetooth signal or just plain WiFi? Right now it doesn’t matter because I turned off the printer. I don’t print much anyway, so when I need it, I can just turn it back on. I might also have to turn on the signals on my computer, too, but I will make that discovery when I need to. Suffice to say I yearned for the simple “on-off” switch it once had.

Windows keeps getting more confusing without its functionality improving. To turn off the Bluetooth devices, I had to go into properties and “disable” each. What’s wrong with an “on/off” switch? Wouldn’t that be less stressful?

I disabled both devices. I fondly believe I can go back and able them when and if I need to. This morning, I disabled the Bluetooth in Garry’s big computer.

In the interim, I also realized that Garry had failed to “disable” his right ear hearing aid. There’s no reason for it to be on at all or even have a battery. He will never use it again because the surgery removed the internal parts of his ear that he would need to use it. He has a Borg ear and implanted lenses from his cataract surgery. His eyes are not Bluetooth. Phew.

The Collective is ready to receive us. Personally, I have two implanted heart valves, two fake breast implants, as well as a Bluetooth-enabled pacemaker which I cannot turn off. Also, an implant in my right ankle from when I was 14 and had a huge tumor on that bone.

His ear is nice and quiet now. Not silent. The surgery tends to cause some degree of tinnitus. Any ear surgery, explosion, or another injury, as well as infections,  can produce tinnitus which can’t be fixed. But at least I can’t hear it, which is an improvement.

The entire house is surprisingly quiet. When you turn all this stuff off? It’s amazing how quiet it gets. We are so used to all the little electronic beeps and dings and chimes, it’s startling how different the sound level is when we make those noises vanish.

This is my essential day. How is yours going?

WHEN IT’S A LOT OF STUFF … COMPOUND INTEREST? – Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 22 Comments

FOWC with Fandango — Compound With and Without Interest

My life has been compounded recently. I knew that with Garry’s surgery coming up, it was going to get complicated. Recently some of my own issues have been popping up — the fibromyalgia which doesn’t bother me often. When it does, it’s usually a day or two of downtime. After that, I’m good again.

But it hit me hard at the beginning of this week. I could not afford any downtime.  Too much to do and it had to get done. If I didn’t stay alert and on target, life was going to fly out of control.

I did not realize exactly how crazy it could get.

Last night, I crawled into bed. Looking forward to listening to my audiobook for a while, then drifting off. Garry was doing his best to watch a movie with the headphone more or less catty-corner over the bandaged ear, but more or less on the “good” ear.

Garry was not a happy camper. His headache just kept getting worse. Nothing he had taken was doing much to help it and we were both getting a feeling that the cup over his ear and the strap around his head were actually causing the pain. I can’t tell you how many times the bandages have caused more pain to me than the surgery under it. I thought that might be Garry’s problem too.

That and being really stoned. I was trying to figure out what to call his state of mind and suddenly, it blazed forth. He was “one toke over the line.” Maybe considerably more than one toke. Quite possibly going to stay that way for a while to come.

I did what I could to loosen the bandage, settled in and turned on my book. I turned on the speaker first, which I always do, and noticed it had gone “searching.” It does not typically do that. After a few minutes, it settled down was ready to play.

Garry could smile at Duke, even today when he was not his usual smiley self.

I turned on the book and curled up. That’s when Garry said, “I can hear your audiobook.”

“You mean … you can hear the narrator? Can you hear the actual words?”

“Yes, and it’s kind of confusing because I’m also watching a movie.”

If anyone could work with two different sounds in each ear, Garry who spent years with a hearing aid in one ear and an IFB communicator in the other would be the one.

That coil is NOT supposed to be picking up ANYTHING. It’s not supposed to work at all without power. I turned off my book and speaker, then turned it on again. He could still hear it. The words. The narrator. And, in the other ear, a movie.

And the Duke …

That is not supposed to happen. I went online to see if I could find anything that talked about hearing Bluetooth through a cochlear implant without external hardware. And, lo and behold, it turns out that Apple was creating exactly that so cochlear implant owners would be able to hear their iPhones without extra equipment.

We don’t have an iPhone. What he was hearing was my little Anker Bluetooth speaker which I bought maybe six months ago. But there was no arguing with the event: he definitely could hear the speaker and when I turned the speaker up, he could hear it better.

I figure the tiny coil they inserted in Garry’s right ear is essentially a manmade replacement for the coil that we are born with. I suppose there’s no reason why it can’t, given the right frequency, work as if it were Garry’s own inner-ear coil.

This is NOT something anyone warned us about and I’m not even sure anyone else has experienced it. I know that it’s theoretically possible, but it presupposes you have Bluetooth software from Apple — which I don’t. Maybe Anker bought their software from Apple or maybe they came to the same discovery on their own.

It’s not like I can look at the Anker manual. First off, there was no manual and even had their been one, I’m sure this information would not be in it. Most people would not care anyway.

As Tom said, “Well, at least you know it works.”

When Monday comes, I will have to call the doctor and ask him about this. It’s pretty strange.

What happens if Garry finds himself lost in a crowd of iPhone users? He could get very compounded.

A QUICKIE – Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 49 Comments

We are home. Garry’s surgery went very well. All the pieces are in place. Owen and I got to see the x-rays and you see the tiny coil that will send sound to his brain and the magnets that will keep the apparatus on his head.

Garry in hospital, not quite out of anesthesia yet, but getting there. From Owen’s iPhone.

He has a BIG cup of coffee, which he needed, took a bunch of ibuprofen for a headache. I fed him yogurt and fresh fruit and he’s watching a baseball game.

He is tired. I am tired. Owen is tired. But it happened. Two weeks to finish healing, then another couple of weeks for the healing to really finish healing, at which point all the technology gets put in place.

Thank you to everyone for caring. This really IS magic.

GARRY’S COCHLEAR IMPLANT IS TODAY – Marilyn Armstrong

/ Marilyn Armstrong / 48 Comments

By the time you read this, we will be at the hospital and quite probably surgery will be underway or even finished. I guess it depends on what time zone you’re in.

This is exciting stuff. Nervous-making, too. It will be at least 5 weeks until he is out of bandages and fitted with all the technology.

Remi, Garry, Tom, and sunshine

After that, it will take a few more weeks while we wait for the magic to work. The technology doesn’t produce “natural” sound. It is essentially electronic, yet the brain converts it into “real” sound. Or, more to the point, makes it sound like whatever sound we recognize as “natural.”

How it does the brain do that? No one really knows for sure. It just does it. Why? That’s another thing we don’t know. It’s a little miracle in its own right.

What we know for sure is that it happens. At some point during the first few months, the brain converts those “electric” impulses into what it “knows” as “real” (normal) sound. For some people, it happens very quickly. For others, it takes a longer and there’s no predicting which way it will go. The important thing is understanding that it will occur and when it does, its magic time.

For Garry, it has been a lifetime waiting to hear. It’s also going to mean some big changes around here. For one thing, I’m going to have to stop muttering under my breath. For the first time in our lives together, he will be able to hear what I’m really saying.