Getting Turned On
It's been two full days since I went in and got the external processor for my cochlear implant. It's called the Harmony and it's packaged in a box with all these nature pictures. There's a hummingbird on the front and a waterfall on the inside of the box. I think the pictures are meant to suggest that I will live happily ever after, in harmony with nature and the cosmos, and that as soon as my head was plugged into the computer I would achieve samadhi on the spot.
Actually, I was just hoping that the thing worked. Ryan, my audiologist, warned me not to expect too much. The processor was hooked onto my ear and the headpiece was attached to the side of my head via a small magnet. It seemed as innocuous as a barrette or hair clip.
"Do you hear anything?" he asked.
"No."
"Now do you hear anything?"
"No."
After a few minutes of this, I began to notice that the ringing in my left ear was getting worse. There was a clicking sound. My implant was speaking to me. I had voices in my head. They were speaking in Swahili, but they were voices. Why was my implant talking to my left ear when it was on the right side of my head?
After 27 years of hearing only in my left ear, my brain wasn't ready to accept that sound could come from the other side.
Each of the 16 electrodes in my cochlea were turned up to what I perceived to be a comfortable level. There was some variation in pitch but not much. Mostly it just sounded like clicks. When the processor was turned on, voices sounded like static. A lot of people say voices sound like Minnie Mouse on helium or Darth Vader, but everything I heard those first few hours was just static. It sounded like a radio station with bad reception. There was a vocal cadence to the static.
That night when I was at the bar, someone set off a ping pong ball lottery machine in my head. Rabid gerbils were spinning in their wheels. I turned my hearing aid on for a moment. A country western song was playing on the jukebox. I liked the gerbils better.
I'd be lying if I said this thing sounds good. It'll probably take months for things to start sounding normal. All the same, I feel like a guy with a $50,000 stereo installed in my head. I just pimped out my ride.
Actually, I was just hoping that the thing worked. Ryan, my audiologist, warned me not to expect too much. The processor was hooked onto my ear and the headpiece was attached to the side of my head via a small magnet. It seemed as innocuous as a barrette or hair clip.
"Do you hear anything?" he asked.
"No."
"Now do you hear anything?"
"No."
After a few minutes of this, I began to notice that the ringing in my left ear was getting worse. There was a clicking sound. My implant was speaking to me. I had voices in my head. They were speaking in Swahili, but they were voices. Why was my implant talking to my left ear when it was on the right side of my head?
After 27 years of hearing only in my left ear, my brain wasn't ready to accept that sound could come from the other side.
Each of the 16 electrodes in my cochlea were turned up to what I perceived to be a comfortable level. There was some variation in pitch but not much. Mostly it just sounded like clicks. When the processor was turned on, voices sounded like static. A lot of people say voices sound like Minnie Mouse on helium or Darth Vader, but everything I heard those first few hours was just static. It sounded like a radio station with bad reception. There was a vocal cadence to the static.
That night when I was at the bar, someone set off a ping pong ball lottery machine in my head. Rabid gerbils were spinning in their wheels. I turned my hearing aid on for a moment. A country western song was playing on the jukebox. I liked the gerbils better.
I'd be lying if I said this thing sounds good. It'll probably take months for things to start sounding normal. All the same, I feel like a guy with a $50,000 stereo installed in my head. I just pimped out my ride.
posted by Franz K at 7:46 AM
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