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Black is the new… black

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2 black speech processors on a black background

Peer closely and you will see my new Sonnet speech processors.

After seven and a half years with bilateral cochlear implants, I have finally upgraded my original speech processors. I am now the proud new owner of two sexy matte black Sonnets, by Med-El.

Black, it would appear, is the new black.

It is remarkable, really, that the previous pair lasted as long as they did. It’s true I took very good care of them (at A$12,500 each, it was no doubt wise to do so) but it’s also true the plastic was getting brittle and they were literally falling apart.

Still, they had a pretty good innings. They didn’t even die while we were living in our mouldy rainforest home! And thank heavens for that, as I didn’t have access to an audiologist who dealt with cochlear implants up in Far North Queensland.

My health fund unfortunately didn’t automatically agree to pay for the upgrade. (Apparently only Medibank Private does, and HBF doesn’t cover them at all. The other funds appear to vary in the degree of difficulty of approval.) There were a few hoops to jump through and the process took about 7 months altogether. I can’t pretend I didn’t feel I was bashing my head against a brick wall for much of that time but really, I’m just grateful that the day finally arrived when I received an email from the Lions Hearing Clinic telling me the money was in their bank account. I could now come in and be fitted with the sparkly new speech processors that had been ordered and delivered months beforehand.

When I walked into my audiologist’s room, she had already started to unpack one of the boxes containing the speech processors and accessories, and had ripped open some of the small boxes containing the accessories too. I felt like a disappointed child, not allowed to unwrap my own presents! So when it was time to open the box for the second speech processor, I stopped her before she got stuck into it, and snapped a photo while it was still sitting on her lap.

Shallow rectangular cardboard box containing an number of smaller boxes with Med-El branding

Brand spanking new cardboard boxes, er, I mean, speech processors.

It’s a far cry from the fancy aluminium cases my first two came in! But that was, admittedly, pretty wasteful. This is too, really, in a different way, and has much more packaging overall from what I can remember. (I do still have those old cases — they are far too good to throw out — but wouldn’t know where to find them.)

On this visit, my audiologist mainly copied over the settings from the old speech processors to the new ones, which didn’t take long at all. I have a follow-up appointment booked in early March for any fine tuning that might be needed after I’ve used them “in the wild” for a few weeks.

The most amazing thing

I’ve found by now that there are indeed a couple of annoyances, and will see if those can be eliminated at the follow-up visit. The main benefit, however, has been an absolutely remarkable one to me. The Sonnets are far more moisture-resistant than the Opus 2s, which makes a very practical and quite astounding difference to the quality of my life.

It might seem a small thing on the surface, and of course I realise it’s minor in the scheme of things, but I don’t actually remember the last time I was able to hear while taking a shower, or directly after washing my hair.

You see, when my speech processors are out, I am totally deaf. I have zero hearing. Not even the faintest sounds — just total silence. So, in the past, I would take off my speech processors (or, before that, hearing aids) to shower, then put them on again afterwards. If I washed my hair, I had to either blow-dry my hair straight away so I could put my “ears” back on again, or be totally without hearing for the hours it takes my thick, below-shoulder length hair to dry.

Likewise, at the beach, I’d take my “ears” off and, most times, keep my head above water so as to avoid getting my hair wet. Wet hair means no hearing until it’s dry again, which in turn means I am not only in silence while actually in the water, but also while packing up and walking back to the car, then during the car journey home, in the shower once home, and until my hair had been blow-dried and I could put my “ears” back on again.

I’m sure you can appreciate that not being able to communicate for significant chunks of time is somewhat less than ideal.

When out diving, I’d have to bring a hair dryer if I wanted to be able to hear at all between or after dives. I was on the receiving end of some strange looks and incredulous comments, I can tell you!

It was inconvenient, but that’s how it was and for more years than I can count, I lived with it. As you do, when there’s no other option.

Now, I can wear my speech processors in the shower and in the water at the beach, as long as I don’t get my head wet. If I do, well, I still have to take the speech processors off, but the difference is that a quick towel dry later, I can pop them back on again. I haven’t been diving since the upgrade, but the same thing will apply — a quick towel dry and I’ll be able to hear. No more worrying about whether or not a boat will have power for a hairdryer, and no more feeling quite so like a freak.

Being deaf is extremely isolating. This seemingly little thing is actually huge to me.

As a bonus, when I let my hair dry naturally it’s curlier, more bouncy, and feels softer and just generally more pleasant. It still feels like a real luxury to be able to do this again.

Still waiting…

The Sonnets actually have reusable covers that are waterproof, but for some reason they’re not yet available in Australia, even though they appear to be elsewhere. I’m looking forward to them becoming available here, as then I could actually go swimming wearing the speech processors. That would be amazing. It’s hard to imagine being able to put my head underwater, come up again and be able to hear if someone spoke to me.

Nope. Can’t imagine it.

Another feature that hearing aids and other cochlear implants have had since I got my original speech processors is bluetooth capability. The Sonnets do have it built in, but for some reason beyond my comprehension the facility for this is also not available in Australia yet. This means that I have to physically change the battery covers and plug cables in to connect my speech processors to a computer or device if I want to listen to music, or a podcast, or anything else with audio. This is not exactly convenient, especially as when I’m “plugged in” I can’t hear other sounds, so if someone speaks to me it is not a matter of simply hitting “pause” — I have to change the battery covers back again first.

Rechargeable batteries are yet another accessory that is available elsewhere but not here. It’s good that the Sonnet takes only two batteries instead of the three my previous speech processors took — and they last just as long before they need to be changed. Still, they require replacing every two days, and even though I’ve now reduced battery usage from six every two days down to four, it does gets expensive and means a lot of poisonous waste in the environment that has to somehow be dealt with.

Catching up

A bonus of my new Sonnet speech processors is the Dry-Star electronic drying station that came in the box. Each night, the speech processors must be given the opportunity to dry out to prolong their life. If we’d still been in our rainforest on solar power I might think differently about the power usage but, as it is, it’s much more effective than before. Instead of a little screw-top plastic container with disposable silicon-filled tablets, I have this.

The drying station is a white plastic container with small vent holes in the top that light up blue, and a glowing blue button at the front

Dry-Star UV electronic drying station.

I believe that in later years the Opus 2 processors have come with an electronic drying device, but “back in my day” it was just the small plastic tub I’ve had all these years.

I do like getting new toys!

So there we have it — and hopefully my new, sexy black Sonnets will be as good to me as my original speech processors have been.

Conversation starters

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It’s now over two years since the activation of my cochlear implants. Yay! I am so glad I got them when I did. There are all kinds of reasons people delay getting CIs, but I would not have missed a single, hearing, minute of this period and regret my own lateness to that particular party.

I’ve been thinking recently, not so much how much my hearing has improved in the last year, but of the increased quality of life I’m experiencing because of it.

I’ve said in the past that I am now no longer afraid that someone will talk to me. I may not hear every single thing, but I can be fairly confident that in most cases I’ll catch on sooner rather than later. This is absolutely huge.

I know other hearing impaired and deaf people will understand what I am trying to say about that fear of being spoken to. For someone with a hearing impairment, any situation that requires aural communication can be stressful — to say the least. With my severe to profound hearing loss, I became quite reclusive for some time before I took the plunge with cochlear implants. I started to wonder what the point of socialising was, if all I could do was look intently at people and imitate their expressions when they spoke, and hope it looked like I wasn’t totally stupid. Now, when I recognise the same thing in others (and I do!), I just wish they realised that it doesn’t have to be like that…

If there’s one thing that most of us with cochlear implants have in common, it’s a past of isolation. And the fact that the isolation is in the past.

Flashback

As I type, flashes of recent conversations are passing through my mind. Top of the list has to be when, a couple of weeks ago, I was in my local butcher, Meatlovers Paradise. Love that place! Top quality products and they are so friendly and helpful, nothing is too much trouble, and they greet me by name and chat away with me, taking a real interest. What more can one ask?

As I was being served, a man standing near me turned to me and said hello. I did a double-take — it was someone I used to go out with briefly about three-and-a-half years ago. In fact, the very person who told me about Meatlovers Paradise in the first place, when I was new to the area.

The first thing he said was, “So you had your ears done!”

I enthusiastically confirmed this, while trying to figure things out. Our time together was long before I started the CI process…

“Yes, Marcus was telling me about it,” he said. I must have looked at him blankly because he added, “Marcus. Marcus Atlas. The guy who did your operation.”

I must then have looked at him incredulously and said something really bright like, “Um…?” because he said, with a smile, “I’ve known Marcus for years. We went to school together. I told you that…”

More blankness from me.

“…but you probably didn’t hear me,” he laughed.

Love it. :-)

It’s All Good™!

More than an end to isolation

But just recently I realised it goes much further than being able to communicate again, and not be afraid when someone speaks to me. I realised that I was actually starting conversations, not just with people I know but also with complete strangers. This is something I vaguely remember doing a hundred years ago in another life, but I realised that now I do it all the time. I like people! I find people interesting. I’d almost forgotten that.

Can you imagine forgetting that you like people and enjoy interesting conversation?

In a way, it’s very cheaty. It’s actually easier than it at first sounds. When you start a conversation, you can guide it. You pick your topic, and you look and listen for expected key words and phrases in any responses. But, oh my, to have the confidence to unhesitatingly speak when you think of something to say… That is just amazing. (And it works for telephone conversations, too!)

Recently, I don’t even think twice about opening my mouth around other people. Stopping by the open kitchen to talk about cooking with the owner/chef at a local café restaurant. Talking politics at a boat club with a marine broker (don’t ask!) and waxing philosophical about Slow Food with someone in the supermarket checkout line.

To be able to finally be myself again — a me I’d all but forgotten about — that’s priceless.

Oops! Where did the year go?

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I can barely believe how long it is since I’ve posted here — almost a year! — but it’s All Good™. Life is good! I’m (obviously) a year or so older, and frankly, that’s the main difference. Really, a year is not such a long time when you’re my age — the poor, doddering old thing that I am. I mean, my daughter has just turned 21. That makes me ancient by definition, right?

Gemma spent her 21st birthday in the snow at the top of a mountain in Switzerland. I’m guessing there are worse ways to spend your 21st. (It was certainly a darned sight different to my own.) I picked Gem and her dad up from the airport last night when they returned from their 3 or 4 weeks of holidaying in Europe. Despite the plane being delayed 3 hours and arriving at 1:45am (which added up to a total of 39 hours in transit for them, so was a far worse thing for them than for me) Gem was happy and excited and that’s a rather satisfactory thing for a doting old mum to see.

As we were heading back to the car and I was rummaging in my handbag for the parking ticket, my ears beeped. Oops! I’d accidentally pressed a button on the remote control which — uh — controls — my speech processors. This remote control lives in the deep, dark recesses of my handbag. I fished it out (eventually) and reset it.

Wow! Loud noise! Much, much more sound coming from all directions. Double oops, then. I recall the many times recently I’ve missed hearing softer noises that I normally would hear, such as the “ding” of my iPhone when a text message arrives when it’s in my handbag or in another room of the house. I’m guessing that the last time I was in a noisy situation and switched the program over to the one that dulls down background noise so it’s easier to focus on speech (probably a week or two previously) I forgot to switch it back again. Sadly, I’d even considered the possibility that this had happened at the times I was actually aware that some sounds seemed a bit muted (or totally absent) and thought that “next time” I was near my handbag I’d check the remote. Then forgot. Oops oops oops oops oops.

Unsurprisingly, I was really struck by the difference in how well I could hear everything after the reset. (Rather handy, given that I had to drive home with an excited chatterbox in the car that I now didn’t have to strain to hear.) Duh. Oh well, live and learn!

Gemma and her dad were duly deposited at their home and, after inspecting Gemma’s important new acquisitions of a rather gorgeous soft leather jacket from Paris, and some stunning Gucci heels from Milan (while all the time making suitably approving noises as expected of a mother under such circumstances, but as quietly as possible so as to not wake my sleeping son) I returned to my own modest little haven for a wicked, wanton and wondrous BBBB before finally turning out the light around 4:30am.

Ahhhhhhhh. Despite the fact that my kids being older is a poignant reminder that I’m not the spring chicken I once was, there’s rather a lot to be said for not having wee bairns underfoot anymore. Besides which, all three kids are really wonderful young people. I wouldn’t go back for anything! And in spite of my (rather numerous) “Oops!” moments, I can’t help thinking that they, too, ultimately just lead to better things.