Five Minute Friday: Belong

On some Fridays, when I remember, I blog as part of a bigger group of women called "Five Minute Fridays." Do you blog? Consider joining us!

This week's topic is "belong." What does that mean? This blog is primarily focused on my life with a hearing loss; my hearing loss impacts how I view pretty much everything--especially my sense of belonging.

Where do I belong? First and foremost, I belong to My Creator. I am "fearfully and wonderfully made." (Psalm 139::14). That means even deaf...even someone who used to hear but now is deaf. Hopefully I will soon sing "I once was deaf but now I hear," just like (sort of) in Amazing Grace. I have peace because of the belongingness and the promises of God. He promised also that He has a plan for me: Jer. 29:11: For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."

These are the four best humans I know. I belong with them!

Next, I belong with my family. During the whole hearing loss "thing," my family has been terrific. My boys, who are always great, have been more thoughtful and attentive. They are generally worried about their mom. I've muddled through the last several years with a progressive hearing loss, but when it just tanked in March, they were right there with me, being loving and encouraging. My husband (read prior entries to re-live his awesomeness) has been my rock. He has dealt with doctors, hospitals, insurance companies...everything he can to make this journey easier. He even drives slower on 285 on the way to the specialist so I don't freak out as much (Atlanta traffic=bleh!).  He never gave up on my getting the help I needed (in my case, a cochlear implant). My parents, who have dealt with my mom's hearing loss for 40+ years have been great. They are some of my biggest cheerleaders! I am so glad to belong to these people.

My friends are the best. Even when I cannot hear them, they have not abandoned me. They have checked on me, called (talked to hubs), sent texts, chatted on facebook...I know I belong with them. My friends committed to pray for my situation. When all signs said that there was no way the insurance would pay for the cochlear implant, my friends prayed harder...when the hospital statement for just over $88K arrived the other day I was so happy to belong to praying friends--that booger is just a statement, not my bill! I sooo look forward to hearing my friends' voices soon.

I even belong to my work. I'm a middle school English teacher. The best part of my job is being with the kids and building relationships with them...so they know they belong. The past two years, I really couldn't do that because of my hearing. This past week I had 4 days of workshops. Two days were required and two were optional. At the required workshop, I had work friends volunteer to take notes for me. They made sure I knew what was going on. They understand my need to belong and contribute. They get my feelings when I say, "I'm not stupid--I cans still think, talk, contribute; I just can't hear." Thank you Susan, Renee, and Gina. The optional workshop was an institute with keynote speakers. I love to go to these things...but am so surprised how many teachers don't go. I talked to the director of the department back in the spring about my attending and what that would mean. Under the American's with Disabilities Act (ADA), I asked for accommodations. I had a sign language interpreter. I loved feeling like I belonged to this group because we shared the learning. How awesome to take in information without the struggle of lipreading/guessing. Some people looked at me funny--like what I had was contagious. I wonder, how many times do we make people feel like they don't belong? My deafness is changing me; I'm going to be a better person on the other side of this journey.

Where do you belong? Do you make others feel as if they belong? I am very blessed. I have a cochlear implant now. I will be activated next week and then hopefully I will have useful hearing again. I will belong to a select group of bionic people (also called The Borg). I am very excited about this....I feel like I'm getting part of my life back. This is not all of my life, as my life is defined in my relationship, which don't change, because I am where I belong.

Becoming a cyborg (part 2)

Eventually, I began to feel almost human. My walks to the mailbox progressed to walks around the block (the shorter section). I ventured out shopping, because it's time for all the cool school supply sales (folders for 1 penny!). Then it was time to go to the doctor!

I had my appointment to have my staples removed about a week after the surgery. I was really looking forward to this. Have you ever had staples in your head and accidentally rolled over on them? Ouch. Just ouch. This is what they looked like:

Not for the squeamish...and what a bad haircut!

 They came out pretty easily and then we were able to discuss how I was doing. One of the reasons I selected the mid scala electrode was because it is supposed to preserve residual hearing. When I was at the beach in June, I could hear the waves (yay for low frequency sounds--and isn't it cool that sounds are produced by waves and I could hear waves???).  I didn't want to give that up. Unfortunately, I am hearing nothing--nada, zip, zilch--out of my implanted ear. The doctor said everything inside my inner ear is pretty swollen from the trauma of surgery, plus some people (read: me) have blood that accumulates there post op. The blood is keeping me from hearing. The blood should clear on its own in a couple of months. In the meantime, imagine the pressure of fluid in your ears...kind of like an ear infection but without the infected stuff. Sometimes it shifts around and it really hurts. The doctor said the blood would not be an impediment to hearing once activation day comes (July 26).

Dr. B: the Cyborg maker!

As you can see in the picture, I also received an oh-so-flattering (not) haircut. Since I don't remember the procedure, I asked Dr. B who was responsible for it. He said he was. I told him not to quit his day job. Now Dr. B has quite the reputation. Everyone says he's the best in Atlanta, but he has NO bedside manner, no humor, no personality...zip. He tries to be intimidating, they say. But, as I'm over 50, I'm so way past the "doctor as God" mentality that is so pervasive. So, when I go to see him, I try to be my typical witty self, regardless of whether or not I get a response. C'mon, he can't be that bad; he went to Wayne State, just like my dad. My mom went to him for a CI eval...she thinks he's cute. What do you think?  From the picture, you know he can smile. After my comment about his barber skills, he asked about any other issues. So I told him that my ear is numb. He looked at me funny, grabbed my chart, and flipped it open. He said, "Is this your signature?" I acknowledged it was. Then he flipped the paper over...it was the possible side effects disclosure form. What a riot...he does have a funny bone. I laughed the whole way home.

Cindy Winter-Hartley (proud Ranger Mom!!) and I

So at this writing, I have 11 days til I am a full-fledged member of the Cyborg Nation. I'm trying to stay busy so that activation will get here faster! Some things help: yesterday my dear sister-in-all-things-West Point-and-Army, Cindy, stopped by on her way through Atlanta. We had a brief visit and fortunately, she is very easy to lip read (because I'm really, really deaf now).  As a fellow Army mom, Cindy understands my heart...and my desire to hear so that one day when Matt calls home from some far corner of the world, I'll be able to understand what he says. Cindy is another dear friend whose been praying me through this journey. <3 her. 

You all sound like this to me...if I hear you at all.

But it's not all fun and games while waiting for activation. In Jawja, we start school ridiculously early...like in a few weeks. This week we are meeting to do some preliminary planning. How are you doing that, you ask? Aren't you deaf? Yes, yes I am. I came into the meeting this a.m. and explained to the teacher leading it just how deaf I now am. I can really hear like, well nothing. If someone has a deep voice, I can hear the prosody (rhythm, stress, and intonation of speech). Imagine Charlie Brown's teacher. That's what I hear if my eyes are closed (if that much). I am a decent lip reader if I am getting enough prosody. Soft talkers (i.e. many women teachers) do not have the prosody necessary for me to comprehend them. My friend Susan volunteered to be my "note taker" for the meeting. We set up our computers so that she typed into a program and it showed up on my screen. She kept me up to date with the "gist" of the meeting. Someone else took official minutes...this was off the record stuff like "now they're talking about organizing the lesson plans." Unfortunately, only a stenographer would have been able to keep up with the minutiae of a 6 hour long meeting. So, the chatter, the inside jokes, the banter...it was all lost to me. Don't get me wrong...it's not that I need all of that. Teacher meetings are often tedious at best. My friend did me a HUGE favor. However, trying to follow the conversation with lip reading was like a giant ping pong game. By the time I realized where the ball was, it was gone. Then there's the whole talking with hands over mouths thing...sigh. I came home utterly exhausted. I mean, I collapsed, fell on the couch, and slept a good while. I know...that sounds like torture. But wait...there's more! I get to go back and do it all again tomorrow.

The making of a cyborg (part 1)

It's been a while since I posted, and much has happened. I'm a cyborg! Yes, I've joined the Borg (you can call me 2 of 3). What is a cyborg? It's short for "cybernetic organism," which is a being with both organic and cybernetic parts
My surgery was originally scheduled for June, but I postponed two weeks so I could have the latest technology, the mid scala electrode. I'm one of the first in Atlanta to get this technology, which has been available in Europe for a while. Having "the latest" positions me for the best possible outcome with my cochlear implant. So, on July 3, I was implanted!
I started the day by checking in with admissions. This had me so discombobulated! Look at the grammar error on this sign:

Really? Go pass?

As a teacher, that was a toughie to get over. I am writing to Northside Hospital this week. Anyway...my preop nurses were wonderful. They gave me a relatively painless IV and a darling gown (with matching socks) to change into. When I've had surgery in the past, the gown didn't match the socks...but I was in Dunwoody, after all. After a bit, I was wheeled into the OR, asked to scootch over to the operating table, and take a deep breath. That's all I remember.
I awoke a bit later in a cozy room. The goal was for me to walk, pee, and eat before I could leave. After accomplishing all of this--plus throwing up  (yay me!), I dressed and was soon departing--just in time for rush hour Atlanta traffic (in.the.rain). Just a short 1.5 hrs later (to go 30 miles), I was home. But on the way home, Matt called--he was coming for the long weekend! I convinced myself it was just to see about me...what a swell kid!

Steve got me settled in my bed and then ran out to get my pain pills...the pain shot I got before leaving the hospital wouldn't be lasting long, so I encouraged him to hurry. He did. The man doesn't mess around with my pain pills. When he came back with them, he inadvertently left the dog gate opened...so Phoebe came to see about me. Did I mention it as raining? @wetdoginmybed!

There is a large wet dog in my bed.

The rest of the day was a blur; I remember chicken soup and drugs...and drug induced sleep. Steve made sure my phone was close at hand so I could text if I needed anything (funny story coming in a bit about that).

Festive for the 4th

The next day was the 4th. It's good to be deaf when crazy people all around you insist on shooting off firecrackers all day. Scott was at camp, but Stephen and Rose came over (with flowers), and Matt was there for dinner. I didn't do anything except look up a recipe for Matt. They fixed a feast! One side effect of CI surgery: your taste buds get all screwy. What I expected to be awesome was only awesome to the other people...to me it was pretty bleh.
The next day, my mom and dad came over to visit. They brought dinner-yay mom and dad! Over the course of the next few days, several neighbors and friends dropped in with food. I realized it's imperative that I do better at bringing people food when they are sick/recovering/whatever. Nothing says "I care about you" like food in the fridge! I am blessed!

Over the next few days, I pretty much stayed in the bed or on the couch. I still needed pain pills and wasn't really up to fixing my own food. On Sunday afternoon I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. Some of my friends on my hearing forum were feeling great at 4 days post op. Not me. I was puny. And on Sunday I was hungry. I texted Steve. Nothing. So, I picked up the phone and dialed. When I saw (remember, I can't hear the phone ringing) that the call had been picked up, I gave my poor, pitiful me message: "Hi...I hope you can hear me because I can't hear you....but there's a very hungry deaf person at the other end of the phone and I'd really like some food. Please. Ok, bye." As I hung up, I glanced at the phone and realized I'd dialed the wrong number.

Five minute Friday-rhythm

I've always said I have no rhythm...I envy the kids I teach that have no problem just standing up and dancing. I'd never do that--too comical. But my life does have a certain rhythm.

Enjoying the beach at Seagrove.

Steve and I have been married 28 years (29 in August!). Last week we were able to go to the beach--just us--for the first time in forever.We really enjoyed the rhythm of how "in sync" we are. We love the same food and the same activities at the beach. We sit and read...that's all!

Scott drumming with a street musician in Ulm.

While it was an enjoyable, relaxing trip, something was missing. We both felt it. The rhythm to our lives is our kids. While we were soaking up rays at the gulf, Stephen was working, Matt was flying, and Scott was bumming around Germany...each creating his own rhythm.  I am so please that my children have grown to be men who have found what they love. But one of my favorite places (the beach) just isn't the same without them. Don't get me wrong--it's still pretty good--it's just not as good as it could be. It's kind of like on American Band Stand: it's got a nice beat, but you can't dance to it. So I guess I mean the kids are the rhythm to my life...as they grow up, I'm excited to see what's ahead for them...but I miss their little boyness terribly. Moving forward, however, I know my life will be full and rich as I figure out my new rhythm and bask in the joy of watching them thrive in theirs. Life is good, and the beat goes on.

Just imagine...

I love the group blogging that is called "Five Minute Fridays." Today's topic is imagine.

 Yesterday I went to the doctor for my pre-op for my cochlear implant surgery. I'm very excited about hearing again, but am also scared of the procedure and the life-changes that accompany it. Throughout the pre-op process, I was frustrated more than once with people who should "know better." This made me consider this: Imagine if we really did treat people the way we want to be treated.

I'm using Advanced Bionics for my implant

Instance #1: The soft spoken, mumbling receptionist at the surgeon's office. I spoke up and told him that many patients in his office were deaf. Don't shout, but look us in the eye and speak a little louder.

Instance #2: The surgeon asked my husband questions instead of me! I couldn't lip read him as he was facing the hubs. I looked at him and said, "ask ME!" He knew it was faster to ask Steve...and he was explaining something technical. Doesn't matter; ask me.

Instance #3: Phlebotomy. Leading me to the room, talking to me with me behind her. I spoke up and told her to check my chart: I'm deaf. I need to see her face.

Instance #4: Xray. Guy was in next room pushing the button asking me questions and probably telling me to take a deep breath. I have no idea.

Seriously...do we even think about other people and how they need to be treated? Imagine if we did. Imagine if we put ourselves in others situations for just a few minutes and figured out what we needed to do to make life comfortable, happy, and caring for each other.

John Lennon says it like this:

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one.

Jesus says it better: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. (Matthew 7: 9-12--with explanation scripture).

Imagine if we all tried that!

Five Minute Friday--Comfort

Comfort--what does it mean? As an English teacher, I tend to analyze words.

My crazy boys--huge source of comfort!

 Comfort can be a noun. In my 50's, I'd like to live a life of comfort...have "enough," not too many unexpected surprises, be able to help my kids. Problem is, my idea of "enough" and God's is rarely the same!

Comfortable is an adjective. I need my jeans to be comfortable. I need to be around people I am comfortable with. They need to be comfortable around me. Some people are weirded out being around anyone with a disability, and I am deaf. They get frustrated that I can't hear. Sorry about that; nothing I can do to fix that. I decided (yesterday, actually) that I am not going to be "on" 100% of the time. I'm not going to be so fixed on following every conversation. It's exhausting. The attention that is necessary to lip read and use closure skills all day long wipes me out. I took a 3 hour nap after work several days this week! I'm choosing to be comfortable with my disability.

Comfort can also be a verb. This is my favorite use of the word. Easter weekend, all my  boys came to see me...they came to bring me comfort. They were worried about me because my hearing loss had suddenly gotten far worse and I was now "deaf." I could see the worry on their face, but they came to bring me comfort. What awesome, tender-hearted young men. I think we all made each other feel a little better, sharing in the struggle and the encouragement that God means it for good. Romans 1:12 says: When we get together, I want to encourage you in your faith, but I also want to be encouraged by yours. What a gift it is that we can do that for each other!

So, I bring a challenge to you, as well as myself today: are you seeking comfort, or do you seek to comfort?

What is Brave?

 What does it mean to be brave?
Every Friday I participate in a group blogging activity called "Five Minute Fridays," where women around the world blog on the same topic. This week, the word is Brave.

What does it mean? The dictionary defines "brave" as "possessing courageous endurance."

Zip tour in Lula, GA

2 Timothy 4:7 says: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful." Paul definitely showed "courageous endurance." Do we? Do I? I was thinking about how easily I give up...how often I think I can't do something so I don't even try. I've been trying to do better at that--sometimes with some success! Last year, I pushed forth and finished writing my book--that was a biggie for me! I'm trying to do things that I once considered either too hard or scary. I am back to learning sign language...part of that is the necessity as my hearing goes south. I need another mode of communication. I've been going to some signing groups (meet ups), and will take a class this summer.
Last Saturday, I went on a zip line tour (doing scary things). The first zip was terrifying! By the third or fourth, it was really a lot of fun! Cross that off the bucket list. I felt very brave!

I have great examples of "brave" in my life. When my son Matt was a little boy, he called himself "Matt the Brave." Now, he's a 2LT and learning to fly helicopters. I'm so proud of his bravery!

Commissioning 2LT Joiner at West Point

One of the bravest people I've had the privilege to know is Henry Friedman. He is a Holocaust survivor. Every year for seven years he's come to speak to my students and share his story. His testimony of the atrocities he suffered and his ability to move forward and not hate inspire me.

Henry and me! I <3 him!

How are we brave? When are we called to be brave? Is it to persevere in adversity? Is it to face a fear? Is it to just get up and get going when we really don't feel like it? Surround yourself with brave people. They will inspire you, and soon, you too may feel that you are one of them. Be BRAVE!