Before I start the actual blog, this note. I’m not pushing anyone to read the books mentioned, selling anything, endorsing anything.  I just want to relate my experiences.  Ok, now the actual blog:

Have you heard of neuroplasticity?  I hadn’t until my book group chose “The Brain that Changes Itself” by Dr. Norman Doidge.  My first thought about reading it was “ugh – great, a science book.”  However, my narrowminded preconception broke wide open when I actually started to read it.  This led me to another book called “This is Your Brain on Music” by David Levitin, PhD.  I’m not going to make this post about science. I know you can Google it if you want to learn more.  But it has definitely affected me and these books and other articles I’ve read since have explained what’s happening to me.

It’s no secret that one of the things I really miss is music. When I was a kid, I begged (and received) piano lessons.  When I was 14, I went to Sam Goody and bought a “pretty” guitar for $20 and I learned how to play “Michael Row Your Boat Ashore” in one day.   If I was listening to the radio I got annoyed when they broke into the music with news, commercials, or anything else but the top 25.  At night I fell asleep to my record player usually playing soft jazz.  To this day, I remember the words to many rock and roll songs of the 60s even though I can’t remember what I did two days ago.  I think you get the point.  I love music and miss it very much.

I also might have told you that when you can’t hear, it’s easy to forget how to say words. You go a long time without hearing them and then suddenly you realize you don’t remember how to say it. I’ve practiced my speech by singing along to the old rock and roll I remember from the time I could hear.  I usually do it when I’m alone so as not to torture anyone else, but it works.  I’ve kept my speech ability.

Ok, now to bring this together and tell you what’s happening.

When I play my old music, I hear it in my head almost as clearly as if I were listening with my ears and sometimes, my head even hears songs that aren’t playing.  I once got through a 35 minute MRI by letting my head play a mixed playlist.  No one understood how I could hear music so clearly in my head and frankly, I didn’t understand it myself.  And then I read something about a test that was done  – I wish I had a better memory so I could tell you the article and describe it exactly, but I think giving you the jist of it will work.

Researchers hooked up some people to MRIs (or something like that) and played music.  They recorded what parts of the brain “lit up” and how intensely they lit up.   Then they turned the music off and asked the people to remember the songs – play them again in their heads.  To their shock, the same parts of the brain lit up again with almost the same amount of intensity.  Though the intensity was a little less, it showed that to the brain there was not much difference in actually hearing the song or remembering it.  And that, I believe,  is how my brain plays music.  And as an aside, Darling Hubby insists that since I lost my hearing, I have perfect pitch.  Apparently without hearing the outside world to throw me off, I can sing better.  It doesn’t help my voice, but you can’t have everything. 🙂

So I started thinking about how I can interpret Darling Hubby’s sounds as words on the phone (previous post.)  Is that my brain rewiring itself too?  Is my brain compensating for my ears?  Granted it’s taken and is still taking a long time, but who knows what the brain can do?  I had a hearing test two weeks ago and both Wonderful Audiologist and I had a laugh because I hear beeps she didn’t provide.  And though I don’t hear the machine’s beeps, I felt vibrations for some of them.  A little tickle really, but I felt something rather than heard it.  Now this may not be exciting by itself, but my brain found a way to know a few of the beeps were there. Where it will go, I have no idea. But it excites me that this relatively new field of science might help others.

Read the links below if you want some more information.  And in the meantime, I’ll practice my drums.  I can’t hear them but boy can I feel that tickle!

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1580438,00.html

http://www.sharpbrains.com/blog/2011/01/25/interesting-recent-studies-and-articles-on-neuroplasticity-cognitive-reserve-and-brain-fitness/

Yes, once again I’ve gone too long without writing and either I should apologize, stop apologizing, or admit that I can’t write as regularly as I’d like.  I don’t know where the time goes but I’ve never been good with time. It gets away from me though it feels much shorter a lapse than it actually is.  But here I am and I may even write two today.

I want to comment on an article I read, though it was awhile ago.  In the September 2011 issue, Readers Digest reprinted an article by Pamela Paul that originally appeared in the NY Times. It was called “Is it Rude to Make Phone Calls” and the article supported the position that indeed it is.  The article ends with the following:

“Phone calls are rude. Intrusive. Awkward. ‘Thank you for noticing something that millions of people have failed to notice since the invention of the telephone until just now,” Judith Martin, aka Miss Manners, said. “I’ve been hammering away at this for decades. The telephone has a very rude propensity to interrupt people.’ ”

As Jack Benny would say with a huffy breath, “Well!”

Don’t get me wrong.  I think everyone is entitled to their opinion and I even agree that some aspects of the phone can be really irritating.  Like pre-recorded telemarketing.  Like telemarketers who call during dinner and don’t let you get a word in, forcing you to be rude when you hang up on them.  Recorded appeals for votes by political candidates is also annoying.  If they can’t be bothered to ask for my vote themselves, why would I think they’ll hear me on anything else?

Anyway, I digress. Yes, the phone can be annoying.  So use caller ID and don’t take the call.  Hang up. Tell someone you’ll call them back at a more convenient time. People can do any number of things to enjoy the voice contact without being overwhelmingly inconvenienced or intruded upon.  And hey, being interrupted is part of life.  If someone can’t handle a momentary interruption, they’re in for a shock as life goes on.

But at least most people have a choice.  My communications are text and email only because I’m deaf.  I used to be able to talk on the phone and while I wouldn’t want to go back to the endless hours of gabbing with people, I would still love to be able to hear the voices of loved ones.  I’d love to be able to chat with a friend.  I’d love to be able to make my own appointments.  I’d love to hear the happy voice of someone I care about saying, “hi!”  I’d love to hear my kids voices say, “talk to you later Mom. Love you.”  “TTYL Mom Love U” works, but it’s the warmth of their voices that turns that love into a hug when we’re not together.

I do try to talk to Darling Hubby on the phone.  I guess living with him all these years has helped me make words out of his grunts.  My brain has somehow learned to interpret the muffled sounds as a language.  I’m not always correct, I make him repeat endlessly, but it’s worth it for us to say “I love you” out loud.  (More on this topic in the next post so don’t go away. Not “I love you” – the brain interpreting!) And I can’t tell you how much it means to me that my husband, children, dearest friends, and I regularly say I love you when we’re ending a converation or parting.  Even in email.  But sometimes you just want to hear it with your ears.

So Pamela Paul, Miss Manners, and many others have an opinion, but they also have a choice.  I don’t and maybe they don’t realize what it’s like not to have that simple luxury.

It might have been a commercial but these days, compared to texting, email, social media messages, etc., “Reach out and touch someone” means something.  And a voice is almost a touch. At least that’s my opinion.

…and I’ll never take it for granted again. My broken ankle is healing well and my cast came off last week.  As of last Friday, I’m allowed to walk inside and I can start with 1 – 3 blocks outside.  It doesn’t sound like much, but what a difference it makes when you want to go somewhere that’s hard to access in a wheelchair.  It’s a long, slow process but the healing is happening and as I leave the wheelchair, I have many lessons and experiences to take with me.

I’ve now experienced three disabilities and have gained perspective on each one. I really hate calling them disabilities or handicaps though, because I still feel able.  Even being in the wheelchair didn’t stop me from doing most things.  I just had to do them a little differently.

It’s been interesting to see how different people react to my various “inconveniences.”  While I’ve been in the wheelchair, people have reacted mainly in three ways.  One is to look at me with sympthy and maybe a half-smile and quickly look away. The second is to ignore me completely and move past me quickly. The third way is to treat me normally, talk to me, and help however they can.  I’m so happy to say that most people I’ve come across not only are in the third group, but they have been so helpful and kind I’ve been overwhelmed by how wonderful people can be.

With my eyesight problem there hasn’t been much opportunity for people to react because most of the time they can’t tell I’ve lost vision.  Since it’s my close up vision, it’s not really front and center when I’m in public.  But anytime I’ve had a problem, people have been more than willing to help – for instance, by telling me what’s on a label, finding the book I just couldn’t seem to see, reading the fine print to me, etc.

People’s reactions to my being unable to hear is a little more complicated. People who don’t know me tend to speak before I know they’re talking to me so of course I almost always miss the first things they say.  I have to say, “I’m sorry but I’m deaf and I read lips so could you repeat that for me?”  Even people who know I’m deaf  sometimes forget and speak without facing me or have their hand over their mouth.  And even if they do things perfectly, sometimes I just have trouble getting it.  (Reading lips is far from perfect.)

The reaction to that usually goes one of two ways.  “Oh! I’m sorry,” they sometimes say. And then they repeat and make sure I can see their lips.  The other way is a heavy sigh and a shrug or wave accompanied by, “Never mind.”  That’s the way that makes me want to scream,   “Please don’t dismiss me because I can’t hear.  And if I can’t get what you’re saying even after you repeat it, please don’t get annoyed and frustrated.  Try rephrasing it so I might be able to read it easier, or maybe you could write it down.  But please don’t wave me off because I’m deaf.”  That’s what I want to say. But so often I don’t get the chance because that person said “Never mind” and moved on. I absolutely hate “never mind.”

In my experience, being deaf has been the least sympathetic challenge I’ve faced.  Being unable to walk or being unable to see something has evoked more kindness and empathy from people than being unable to hear.  I don’t know why that is but it sure makes me wonder.