...and then you have several days in a row where you just can't understand a damn thing.
I don't know why or how that happens. My doctor promised that the cochlear implant would be consistent and reliable for hearing. But I'm telling you: it just isn't so.
Some days, it's a wonder. Then out of the blue, I find myself once again looking blankly at the speaker, with those raised eyebrows and doofus expression and uttering the words I dread the most, "What? What did you say?"
First, at the store where the screaming children of the blissful mother stand behind me while I'm trying to answer all those stupid questions the store clerks ask before they ring your merchandise and tell you what your total is. Must they really have my phone number and zip code and email address and name of my first born for me to buy a bottle of shampoo? Can you not just tell me what I need to pay and let me leave before I turn around and use my teacher voice on those children!
Then at the drive-thru, where I'd just like to have a simple cheeseburger with all the fixings. "Would you blah, mumble-mumble, glick-blah?" What? "Would you blah, mumble-mumble, glick-blah?" (Yeah. That's what I thought you said.) Seriously, is it really necessary for them to ask if I want lettuce and mustard and ketchup and tomato and cheese on my cheeseburger? Did I not just order a cheeseburger? With all the fixings?
Retiring to my home and hoping for a quiet reprieve proves futile, too. TVs and dogs and daughters and phones and husbands and a multitude of noisy distractions ---
I've said, "What?" way too much today. I'm tired.
Is it any wonder that I find solace in the written world of blogging and chat rooms and Facebook? It's here that I don't have to rely on my poor, poor hearing to decipher and comprehend the intentions and conversations and questions of others. It's here that my hearing - or lack of - matters naught.
Good hearing days, or bad. It's a great equalizer, it is.