Little Things

She now hears what she calls “pretty” things: church bells ringing, solo piano pieces, certain voices that have a clear and resonant quality. Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music, for example, which has always been one of her favorite things. (Woof! Sorry.)

She hears the dogs’ under-cut toenails as they scuttle across the hard wood (vinyl) floors. She had no idea they made so much noise. This is also kind of annoying, she thinks, and I have to agree, but it’s neat that we can share this annoyance now.

Garbage trucks and other street cleaners, airplanes and buses: she heard them before, sometimes, but now she hears them down the street, around corners. She has to ask what some of the sounds are, but I don’t mind.

Last night she heard the waitress, standing behind her, ask a question. She answered without turning around. She doubted what she heard, out of habit, but she was pleased that she was correct.

And more and more she hears me: the timbre of my voice (tenor-pitched, a nasal tone). When it’s quiet in the house she sometimes answers questions that I don’t look at her to ask. And it’s almost like living with a different person when that happens.

But it isn’t a different person, and I have to remember that no matter how good she gets at this, I can’t get lazy about communicating with her. And it’s still the beginning.


Lindsay Doesn’t Squeak Any More

She used to, though. That is, her hearing aids did.

Every time she had to wear hats, or if someone put a hand to her ear, or sometimes even if she yawned too vigorously: the microphone in her hearing aids that sampled her world and sent that sound to her ear would feed back, causing an audible “squeak”.

But she hasn’t worn a hearing aid in many months. And while her CI does have a microphone, it isn’t amplifying any sound externally, so…

She might be getting some really nice ear muffs for Christmas.