As my implant surgery draws near, past reflection is useless. My mind is forward set. And my emotions are high. My demons lie just below -- in the darkness -- where Mercury rises.
To submit myself to cochlear implant surgery feels like a resignation of the inevitable. There will be no miracle for me. The surgery will render my cochlea permanently and irrevocably damaged. I am not a hearing person anymore, and I never will be again. As "good" as current hearing aid technology is, it will never be as good as God-given hearing is. Or was. I am and will forever be -- deaf.
Some people would say to me, "But a cochlear implant will be your miracle." I'm not sure I can agree with that. In some ways, I think it will be like a gift -- a restitution of sorts -- a reparation of something lost; equivalent, but not equal. It's a matter of "perspective" -- a term I've heard thrown around a lot lately. That perspective depends on which side of the line you stand on, however. And I stand on the deaf side.
There are well-meaning friends who try to encourage and understand what I am going through. But they have no idea what it's like from my perspective. I hate advice from people who don't know, especially when they're telling me how I should feel. But I hate the "my [insert any name of any random acquaintance here] who [wears hearing aids/has a cochlear implant] and they LOVE it" people more than anything else.
I usually just smile and nod, but I really want to punt them out the window.
It's Mercury, I know. When Mercury is in retrograde the human psyche is dark, so other senses are heightened. We feel extra sensitive here. We notice things overlooked before. We slip-up, make mistakes, and misread others' words. And we shine a light on our demons.
Mercury retrograde is a scapegoat, I think, for our human frailty.
I don't believe in astrology. But I sure am glad my surgery is scheduled when retrograde is over.