What Did You Say?

I'm grieving.

I'm grieving the loss of my hearing.

Although I am remaining very positive about my present state and my future, I can't help but grieve something that I have already lost. And I can't be positive that I will regain any of my hearing.

It's a sad process. Losing your hearing.

But it's gone. There isn't much I can do about it. I think I might be able to find some comfort in getting a hearing aid after my surgery, but the sadness is still present.

I started really noticing my hearing loss at the first of the year. I would slam my phone down and cuss it out - blaming the stupid iPhone, rather than thinking it was my hearing.

In May I was out to dinner with a bunch of friends and I was so frustrated because I couldn't hear what everyone was saying, so I left the dinner and went home and cried. That's when I knew something was wrong.

I like to be the center of attention. And that isn't easy to do when I can't hear what everyone is talking about.

Saying "huh" all the time gets annoying - even to me. So, I have found that I have been saying, "What did you say?"

It has also come to my attention that I have to remind my friends and family that I can't hear from my left ear and to please speak in my right ear. It's heartbreaking, even though I never let it show.

I never thought I would have to say, "Excuse me, I can't hear you, can you please speak into my right ear." Old people have to say that ... not vibrant 38-year-olds.

But here I am bitching again, when things in my life could be much worse. I could lose my hearing in both ears. I could have been born deaf. I have a lot to be thankful for.

But I want to have a pity party right now. I am sad. I can't hear out of my left ear. I can hear noise, but I can't make out speech.

Friday night I took Harry to see his favorite band of all time, Muse! It was a great time. I found myself plugging up my right ear (my good ear) to see what I could hear from my bad ear. I could hear noise and sound, but couldn't make out what that noise and sound was exactly. It was very strange.

I'm sad, goddammit! I want to hear again. I want to talk on the phone using my left ear.

You know, my left ankle is jacked up, too. I have plates and pins and screws in it. Forever. I want to bitch about that, too. But I won't.

I am lucky. I have it good. I have the use of my limbs, my mind, my heart. I am lucky.

I've decided that I want to get a landline. I am nervous to only speak on my cell phone, as I really have a sneaking suspicion that my acoustic neuroma was caused by radiation from my cell phone.

I want this phone from ebay. Or one like it.

I like the color pink.

Thank God I still have my eyesight.

I am lucky!