Silence

I get up early in the morning before anyone else and do NOT put on my two CI processors in right away. That means I am in silence. I love this period. Few outside forces can get my attention. It’s my time for reflection and meditation. I cherish this hour. It only lasts for a short time as life calls me, but I value that time.

When I first started to lose my hearing, the idea of enjoying silence was unthinkable. Even though my hearing loss was only slight at the time, I think I knew it would decline, leaving me cut off from the world, unable to communicate. I never thought about alternatives to hearing, like sign language. In fact, I’m pretty sure I didn’t know it even was a legitimate language.

Today, I have almost no natural hearing.  Only the loudest sounds make it into my brain. At night, I sleep without my CI processors, and it’s blissful; I’m never awakened by snoring or coughing or my cats running around. And I have Cobb, my service dog, to protect me.

The silence I enjoy every morning is so precious. And it is a constant surprise to find how meaningful it has become. After nearly a lifetime of declining hearing, the very idea of silence, which used to inspire terror, has become a welcome gift.

When I put my processors in and can hear, a battery of sounds invades me. Those first few seconds can be annoying. But then  my brain gets used to hearing again. The noise becomes  the normal, every-day “background music,” and I am thrilled to communicate with the world again, thanks to my two bionic ears.

Sometimes I’m even a little bit sorry to leave my world of peace and silence. But then I remember I will have another moment of blessed silence tomorrow morning.

Please share your thoughts. Do you agree or do you think I’ve gone a little looney?