My 2009 Audiogram

Here’s my audiogram showing both my unaided and aided hearing loss.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

When you read the topic of this blog entry, the first thing that may pop into your mind might be either the old Willy Wonka movie with Gene Hackman or the new one with Johnny Depp. To each to their own, both have one thing in common (well one of the many things) — imagine looking through the eyes of Charlie or one of the kids like Violet or Veruca — whoever you identify the most with. Imagine yourself jostling for position as Mr. Wonka opened up the door to the breathtaking and mesmerizing scene beyond the door.

That’s how I felt after I decided to put on my aids on the advice of Amy the Audi. In the past, I didn’t really care about sounds in general. Before last week, I used my aids to seek out specific environmental sounds like door knocking, doorbell ringing, telephone ringing, dogs barking…you get the idea. General and easily identifiable sounds. Yes, those.

Which brings me to now. For some reason, as Jen said, my body and I (specifically my brain) decided that now was the time to introduce the very fiber of my being to the world of sounds beyond the easily identifiable sounds such as barking, doorbell, etc. I heard, get this, bird song, for the first time ever! This was with my aids! I was in disbelief. Let me expand on that a bit. I came home from work last Friday and I saw Renda in the pool. I stopped and chatted with her (before going inside to change to go swimming too). All of a sudden, I heard sounds that sounded kind of a low coo coo (something like boop boop boop to my brain). I asked Renda what that sound was. She asked me what I was hearing. I said, “Wait…this is how I’m hearing it…(fingers touching the thumb and opening up and closing again) — boop, boop, boop”. Renda: “oh, that is the sound of birds singing.” “WHAT!? Birdsong? No way!”

So imagine my incredulity. Bird song! I could close my eyes and just listen to the coo’ing all night.

It didn’t stop there. I now know when the printer stops printing. I know when the microwave stops. I know if my car is locked or not (via electronic key dongle). I heard my shoes squeak on the plastic chair mat. I even heard the sounds of someone pulling towels from a towel dispenser (the one with folded towels). I even heard the ringing of cell phones while walking down the aisles at Walmart near work. I even heard the sounds of shopping cart wheels hitting the asphalt (how do I describe that sound? sounded like rapid pencil tapping with varying sound pitch). Whooooo!

And all these with my aids alone. I confess that I have kicked myself for not doing this sooner.

It didn’t stop there as well! Over the weekend, I was out to stores to do my errands. In the past, I had store clerks/aisle persons write down answers to my queries. Well, with my aids, they practically didn’t have to. I was giddy. I was like Charlie with chocolate candies all over the place, except that the candies were in the form of mysterious sounds waiting for me to discover what they were. They even, from my perspective, understood most of what I was talking about. That was too much. My brother asked: “don’t you feel empowered?”

Yes, I do. Oh definitely, more than I can express.

One more thing…at the last store before heading for home, I went through the self-checkout lane. I heard this BOING BOING BOING sound every time I moved something through the scanner. It registered in my brain that I was hearing the scanner acknowledge a scan success. I heard that the day before at Wally’s World next to work, but didn’t realize it was the scanner doing it. I thought it was some annoying beeping sound coming from somewhere. Now when I hear it in a store, I know what exactly I’m hearing. The BOING’ing sounds of scanners acknowledging scan success.

Aaaand I now know how to identify a public address, or so I think. I have heard it one too many times at Walmart, but the connection fell into place courtesy of a coworker who asked me: “Did you hear that?” “What?” “That was the public address system.” “ohh that was what it was? (thinking to myself: whooo!)”

It does not stop here! Imagine the possibilities with the available technology out there. As Abbie said, it’s like being a kid all over again, just like Charlie and his factory. And I’m Charlie.

The Step after the Simple Step

The day has come and gone, from here to Phoenix and back. I’m still incubating what had transpired over in Phoenix.

The jury’s still out on whether I qualify or not, but I get ahead of myself here. To keep this short and sweet, I met with Amy, the audiologist. She started the Middle Ear Analyzer process, but unfortunately, she had to go through at least four different ear plugs until she hit on the right one.

Four. Is that an omen? Hmm… you know how things happen in threes. Four, what does four mean? Hmm.

Anyway, I have no clue as to the results of the test yet. I didn’t get a copy. Oops. The sound booth beckoned. I had the typical battery of audiological tests with beeps and moving lips behind a piece of paper.

Again, I didn’t get a copy of that audiogram. Oops. The next test, I’m not sure what yet — I’ll find out soon, was done.

Amy then asked me about my hearing aids, if I had any. I told her I forgot to bring them. Yikes. I had them on my desk before leaving for the appointment today. Guess the HINT (Hearing In Noise Test) test was out for today.

That more or less concluded my appointment with Amy. Before she left, she told me to start wearing hearing aids. The surgeon was next. Dr. Syms saw me not too long after and we talked about cochlear implants and I gave him a list of questions (Thanks Abbie!). We talked about his answers. After that, he checked my ears and we were done.

He said that we were certainly not done. I had to come back next week with my hearing aids. Ohhhhhh and here I thought it was that easy.

It sucks that I have to come back because it means I have to take another PTO from work and drive up to Phoenix in my gas guzzling convertible. Anybody have a Prius that I could drive?

The surgeon also gave me a letter about a seminar that I’d have to attend. The seminar is mandatory if I want to go ahead with this. The only gripe about this is it is scheduled for two months from now — August 19th.

I plan to do my research and eliminate the need of having a seminar. I plan to pick Gregg’s brain about how he got away with this.

The next step is to go back again next Wednesday at 3 pm — AND I will get my copy of the audiogram!

Thus begins my second step.

A Single Step

Who would have thunk this! On the very day that I am to go to Phoenix to meet with a surgeon and audiologist, I find myself lying wide awake at 3:30 am, after going to sleep at around 10:30ish the night before. While lying wide awake with my Maine Coon cat warming the spot next to my feet, my mind marveled about the fact that I would be actually looking forward to this trip. Before giving up on the battle for some more ZZZs, as I need rest for the long day today, I thought of a quote by Confucius:

“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

In my case, it was probably a series of single and disconnected steps throughout my short life. I would like to share a tale about one of the single steps that barged into my mind this morning. That “step” was of the Hawai’i trip I took with Mom. She was being honored by NuEar for being one of their best sellers or something like that. I still have the acrylic award she got from NuEar in the garage. Anyway, while at their convention in Kona, Mom had one of the NuEar people take molds of my ears — and these were not your typical molds. They were deep-ear molds.

Deep-ear molds?, you say. Yes, deep-ear molds. They were for the canal aids that NuEar was selling where the entire hearing aid was inserted deep in the canal until the part where the output of amplified sounds came out was practically next to my ear drums. Anyway, that was the day I found out I actually had collapsed ear canals. You could see it in the molds. Man they (molds) were painful to extract because the end was bigger than my canals. Such pain that I never experienced before and in my head, to boot!

Anyway, I digress. The journey started with the molds being made. Some time later, I forget how long, I got the canal aids. After they were inserted in (after Mom tried to make the ends smaller for me to be able to insert them with no pain (she failed but at least she tried)), I almost immediately marveled at the sounds I was able to pick up. Remember, the mic on the aids was actually inside of the ear, just like the AB BTE will be. This took advantage of the resources given by our human bodies – the outer ear as the collector of sounds.

Collector of sounds. Geez, how little did I realize at that time what I was missing out on. That same day or some days soon after, I went to BlockBusters to rent an antiquated VHS movie (Gregg, remember the BB near Mom’s office across the street near Dominick’s? – that one, remember how big it was?). While there, I was minding my own business (think: humming and eyes looking to the sky with your right foot moving in circles ); actually, I was looking for a movie, like I said. I eventually found myself on the far side of the building – far as in far from the check-out lane where you pay for the movies.

Quite suddenly, my surprised brain picked up on a sound I actually recognized. I suck at directional sounds – I don’t know where they are coming from – so I had to swivel my head until I found the source. It was one of the cashiers picking up a ringing phone…from way across the building! Imagine the thrill I had as soon as I realized I could actually hear something that far away.  I never was able to do that while wearing both of my hearing aids.

I saw the potential if I continued wearing the canal aids, but unfortunately, they were painful to put in and equally, if not more so, painful to wear. So I stopped not soon after.  Thus ended my “Single Step” experiment, but man what a powerful single step it was.

I never forgot the thrill of hearing something from so far away and actually recognizing the sound pattern. Which brings me to today’s “single step” on my journey, the one that I never imagined even taking until this year when my brother went on his journey; the one of the questions that I pondered on is: does the fact that I secretly wanted to be able to hear and understand sounds (spoken or environmental) make me any less of a, I’ll have to say this, Deaf person?

I am looking at the screen with such an intent look when I say this answer: HECK NO! In the words of the immortal Popeye, “I ‘yams whats I ams, and dats all that I ‘yams.” Getting something put in my head certainly does not make me any different than the person I am today. I am a decent human being and that will never change.

Now that I have shared with you my tale, my dear friends, please join with me, laughing, crying, hopping steaming mad, skeptically, with astonishment, or what emotion that you experience, as I begin the next “Single Step” on my journey…

PS: Notice that I have not mentioned the “what” and, believe me you , the lack of mention is deliberately intentional on my part.  Any comments that actually mention it will be frowned on.    I do plan on mentioning it soon enough.

Short note…

I’ll post up an original blog post hopefully this week. It’s long overdue.

–T

Lovesick Songbirds

Copyright all rights reserved. You may copy as long as credit is given.

Through the blue skies,
Two merry songbirds,
Flies above the rolling grass,
Sprinkled with carnations,
Of different hues…
Towards no known destination,
Except towards the rising Sun.

Trees start to appear here and there,
Oblivious to the love-struck songbirds,
Dancing around the sun-thirsty branches reaching up to the Sun,
Flying nowhere, just content in each other’s company and song.

As the songbirds navigate the green maze,
An errant sunray drops out of the sky,
Towards one tree…
One sunray after another,
Seemingly without any purpose…

As if by magic,
All dropping rays,
Met at a tree,
Giving the tree a shimmering aura.

Attracting the air-dancing songbirds,
Slowly the songbirds land,
On a thick green overhanging branch,
Perching on a warm spot,
The tree’s shimmering aura turns pink,
As the songbirds kiss with such tenderness,
Making the aura turn redder.

Todd Hlavacek

Sand Waltz

I wrote this some years ago. All rights reserved. Now with all the copyright disclaimers aside, here’s the “story” I wrote for your enjoyment.

Have you ever felt like waltzing through the dry sand with the water crashing against your ankles? Just wading through the receding waters, gazing at Nature’s beauty? A flock of swans swimming in the water toward the slowly reddening sunset. As you gaze at the swans, the sunset inexorably creeps toward the water, bathing the moving waves with its luminous rays. Rays reflecting off the waves to the deepening twilight. As your eyes draw in the mesmerizing sight, your lips start reaching for your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, a tear escapes, gliding gracefully down the contoured cheek to the waiting warm sand below. Feeling the splatter of the teardrop hitting the sand, you shake off the hypnotic hold of the setting sun. Slowly, your eyes follow the
horizon, only to have the beauty of the horizon lull you back into a trance.

Drinking up all the sights, you sigh a gigantic and pensive sigh. A shooting star merrily races across the already dark twilight. Your
eyes follow the path of the shooting star in wonder. Such beauty! Your head shakes ponderously as you resume your journey.

Your head starts to droop, with your eyes darting over to your side. Your loneliness becomes apparent to your haunted eyes, if one
were to look into your eyes. Such magnificent beauty should not be wasted on just one individual! A long wail escapes your lips, only to be heard by silence. You then start to drown into your thoughts, shield out exploding beauty, of which can only be seen at
nighttime.

My mind sings of another more profound beauty.

The beauty of a romantic relationship with a loved one. By being in a relationship, you would be able to share your innermost emotions, feelings, and thoughts. That is by far the ultimate courageous act. THAT is beautiful, much more so than the setting sun, much more so than a million dozens of roses, much more so than a thousand carat diamonds, much more so than a gracefully arcing flock of swans…for true raw courage occurs when you reveal the “you” to someone closest to you. That’s beautiful.

A smile brightens the twilight, greeting the Moon overhead. Your head nods as if in response to an unspoken question. You start
prancing toward an invisible destination. You jump and skip joyously. Your eyes detect a burning light in the distance. You start
to speed up, commanding your joyous feet to increase its tempo. Swiftly, the burning light becomes a campfire, a cheery fire waiting to welcome you. Out of breath, you quickly slow down and start tiptoeing… Your eyes search for something…

…a shape slowly materializes of someone hunched over the fire. You see that person trying to toast marshmallows for the s’mores. Ah! Your lips part in anticipation, not for the s’mores, but for something else. Your feet start lifting and dropping, bringing you nearer to that shadow. Excitedly, your arms circles the shadow, bringing the shadow into a deep embrace. With deliberate motions, you turn the shadow’s face until your eyes lock.

Your hands flutter out something. The shadow’s eyes flutter in disbelief in response. You feel your head nodding and your hands repeat its song. A tear appears in the shadow’s eye; amazement dancing across the face. While you gaze at the shadow’s face, the shadow’s shy smile shimmering in the campfire’s light. You say it once again…

I love you.

You fiercely hug your love as moonrays descend upon you both.

Christmas 2008 Limerick

It’s the time of the year when I have to write up something very boring
Oh, why do I have to write stories that will make you start snoring
Christmas letters do get us blabbing
Oh what fun it is to do some gabbing
Christmas is a good time to feed letters to a sleepy fire to make it roaring.

Tags: Christmas

What is love? (1990s)

I wrote this many, many years ago…when I was imagining myself the Poet Extraordinaire! Seriously, this poem was written during a time when I was going through a rough period of time dealing with betrayal, trust violations, and more. You know the gist.

What is love?
To me, love is like a rose…

A dew-coated rose,
Basking in the warmth of embracing sunrays,
Drops of dew sparkling,
Like smiles.

A petal escapes,
The fierce embrace,
Of the petals,
Trying to touch the ground.

That is me,
Exposing my feelings,
Making me vulnerable.

Another petal escapes,
Trying to touch,
The tall grass stalk,
Lying underneath,
The petal.

That is me,
Exposing my inner-most secrets,
To the world.

Under the relentless embrace,
Of the warm and trusting sunrays,
The petals slowly escape,
The fierce embrace…
Blossoming,
Into a very beautiful rose,
Radiating love,
To the world.

Oh! Whoever has the rose,
Would be very lucky!
Oh yes indeedy!
The rose’s love,
Swiftly envelopes the holder,
Of the rose’s heart,
With happiness,
With love,
WIth warmth,
With trust,
With openness,
With honesty

PLUCK!
A petal is ripped,
From the blossoming rose!

PAIN!
The confused rose,
Wonders why the holder,
Hurts it so…

After all, the rose gave
happiness,
warmth,
trust,
openness,
honesty,
and most of all, love…

Why? Why such a sharp jolt?
The rose clamored,
Collecting the reaching petals,
Falling back,
Into a fierce embrace,
Withdrawing,
Into the sanctuary,
Of its love for itself,
Vowing never to blossom,
Ever again.

Hidden away,
In the protective cocoon,
Of the petals,
A persistent light,
Weaves through,
The interwined petals,
With one thing in mind…

To love the rose.

Finally, the light
Reaches the cocooned rose,
Tentatively, the light…
Touches the rose,
Like a flutter of a monarch butterfly’s wings.

The rose warmed,
By the stubborn light,
Sluggishly blooms,
Becoming stronger,
And Stronger,
As the light,
Showered the rose,
With love…

Slowly, the rose opened up,
Once again,
To shower the luminious rays,
With love.

Suddenly, the rose,
Shimmered with unbounded love,
Joyous,
Now that it can love,
Once again…

-T.H…k, 1996

One Scrappy Gal, you may recall seeing this poem over on the NOTES system at our college many years ago.

Report cards

Don’t you ever look back to the days when you were young and recall having to bring home your report cards to give to your parents?

I do.

My ex contacted me after the El Tour about our daughter not doing well in school. I was surprised because she is a very bright kid who loves to read chapter books and can’t stop asking questions about everything (like what is the reason for 42? ).

So this report card was pretty uncharacteristic for her. What was decided was that she will write up a report explaining why she did the last trimester poorly and what strategies she’ll utilize to improve. That report will be mailed to me along with the report card. (My kid is out of state living with her mom.)

What I wonder the most is about the wisdom of having a 9 year old kid write up a report at an early age. It evokes memories of me standing before a black chalkboard writing, “I will not lie.” 500 times. And believe me, I have done quite a few of chalkboard lines in my time (”I will not fight people.”, “I will not cause trouble at recess.” etc). It makes you wonder… which is better? Writing lines because it’s so tedious that you will do whatever it takes to avoid doing lines or writing a report because it makes you THINK about the consequences of your actions however young you may be. So it’s an interesting thing to think about. Lines or report.

Til the next blog.