By age 50, I was deaf. Hearing aids helped a little, but to communicate, I used sign language, a TTY, lip-reading and the written word. Since I was most likely born with hearing loss, I had adapted throughout life in the hearing world.
From youth to age 43, I was a choir member, soloist and performer in several venues. I loved music, both listening and performing. From 1969 to 1971, I studied music in college hoping to become a music teacher and continue performing.
Life took me in other directions, though, and I worked in offices as a secretary for years, having been fortunate to become proficient with computers early in my career. This allowed me to continue to perform office work as my hearing loss became profound.
By 43, I quit singing in choirs. No longer could I hear myself or the singers near me. My technique was virtually nonexistent and gradually my singing voice was spent. Several years passed before I fully accepted this loss. On the up side, writing became a creative outlet, helping me cope and allowing me to advocate for others with hearing loss.
On January 8, 2002, my audiologist, Laura Holtsford-Anderson, told me I was a candidate for a cochlear implant (CI). My first words were, “When can you do it?” In May, that implant was activated and the clarity of speech astonished me. Communication was now relatively effortless and a source of joy, but after years of bluffing, I did need to learn to trust what I was hearing. Environmental sounds were thrilling – birds, squirrels, cicada and the wind and rain remain some of my favorite music.
Discriminating between different tones or notes in a musical scale was frustrating though. Musical memory was a new term for me and since music had been so constant all my life, my brain had a storehouse of songs waiting to be awakened. If I heard a song I had known before deafness, I could “hear” it. But new songs all sounded monotone to me. However, musical memory didn’t do anything for my voice. Even though I practiced my vocal techniques, I knew my singing was not always on key.
My audiologist explained it to me: “Speech processors were designed to process speech and improve speech understanding. Listening to music is possible but some aspects of music are transmitted better than others. The rhythm or beat is easily appreciated, the words to familiar songs may be recognizable (especially if following along with a written copy) and a solo singer with one accompanying instrument in addition to drums or bass may be more enjoyable than a complex symphony. However, musical pitch is difficult to distinguish, as is the sound of multiple instruments played together or a choir singing multiple parts. Familiar songs with simple arrangements and a good beat, played at a comfortable volume may be enjoyable if the expectations are realistic. It may not sound like it used to, but a person may recognize the song as an old favorite.”
Five years after receiving my first CI, I saw the choir director of my youth and asked her how I could get my voice back. She pulled some strings to enroll me at no cost in her Helen Swank Voice Teaching and Research Lab at Ohio State University, where she is a professor emeritus. I worked weekly with a graduate student, Sarah Altman, who helped me revive my breathing techniques. Using Voiceprint, a computer program that gave me visual feedback, I could see if I was on pitch. With concentration, I was able to keep my voice even and close to correct pitch.
After three lessons, we conducted an assessment without Voiceprint. Sarah played a series of 12 notes on the piano. I sang what I heard, thinking I was right on target. When Sarah told me I had not gotten one correct, I was stunned. Then I asked her if she thought I could ever perform in public again. She hesitated before telling me, “No.”
With an odd finality, I left that last lesson thinking, “At least I gave it my best shot.” In April 2009, I received a cochlear implant in my other ear. Now sporting two Cochlear Freedom digital processors, rather than analog processors, speech is clear and communication truly effortless. Cochlear provided me with a CD to rehabilitate my listening. On the music portion of the program, intonations are difficult for me to detect, but with practice, I believe my ability to hear and appreciate music will improve.
For 40 years, I enjoyed the gift of music. Some people don’t get that long or never have it at all. And I can still enjoy music as it joins me to people, memories and new experiences. Cochlear’s Kate Gfeller, Ph.D., says it nicely: "Sharing the social connection of music with others is as important as having perfect sound." Thanks to my CIs, I now listen to the birds and my grandchildren and I communicate with ease. That is music to my ears.
Elizabeth Thompson is a columnist for Suburban News Publications and lives in Grove City, Ohio. Her book, Day by Day, the Chronicles of a Hard of Hearing Reporter, was published in June 2008 by Gallaudet University Press.
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