037: Sound

"Within a bony labrinthean cave,
Reached by the pulse of the aerial wave,
This sibyl, sweet, and Mystic Sense is found,
Muse, that presides o'er all the Powers of Sound."
- Abraham Coles,
Man, the Microcosm; and the Cosmos

2009

"And the soft, blue part goes into your ear like this…" the audiologist says as he slips the earmold of Eli's first hearing aids into his left, and then into his right ear. "Is that alright?" he asks, looking at the three year old.

Eli's eyebrows are furrowed and his expression tells the audiologist that it certainly is not alright.

"I know they don't feel too good, but you'll get used to them." The young man tells him. "And they'll help you hear lots better." He encourages.

Eli looks to Kim and I for confirmation. Kim nods and I smile.

When the brunette man gets the molds snugly into his ear canals and the hooks positioned correctly behind them, he scoots back and smiles at the toddler. "I'm going to turn them on now, okay?"

Again, Eli looks at his mother and I for approval. We both nod and the audiologist switches the hearing aids on, one right after the other.

The room is silent for a moment, as if the few thousand dollar hearing devices could be tested on that, until Kim speaks up. "How does it feel?" She asks.

Eli's blue eyes instantly widen and he looks at her, stunned. "It's loud." He informs her, his own voice startling him.

I glance at the audiologist, slightly worried. Apparently knowing what's going through my head, he shakes his and speaks. "It's going to be an adjustment, getting used to hearing every little thing, but he'll get used to it. For the first couple weeks just have him wear them when he's comfortable- at home, in small groups- and work up to being able to wear them through an entire day." He assures me with a smile.

I nod and let out a breath, relieved.

After a few more questions and pamphlets and signatures, the three of us head out into cool, damp air of the parking garage, heading off to pick Henry and Maxine up from preschool and playgroup.

"What's that?" Eli asks in alarm when Kim tosses her large key chain in her hand.

Smiling broadly, Kim hands her son the silver key chain. Eli stares it momentarily, then begins to shake it around in his cupped fist, enjoying the different sounds his motions could create. Seemingly satisfied, he hands it back to her as we approach the car.

As we settle ourselves into Kim's SUV, I can't help but think about all the sounds that Eli is hearing for the first time in over six months; with a 60 db, 'severe' loss in his left ear and a 25 db, 'mild' loss in his right, it can be easily assumed that he's missed out on anything and everything quieter than the vacuum cleaner.

"Music, Momma?" He asks from his car seat, a large grin on his face.

Unable to wipe the smile from her own face, Kim nods and presses play on our children's favorite CD. I watch in the rearview mirror as his head of brown curls begins to bounce with the music that is turned up to a very reasonable volume, a volume that, as of an hour ago, he wouldn't have been able to hear.

Though I'd love nothing more than to watch this young boy reacquaint himself with power of sound, I know we have a schedule to keep and I put the Lexus into reverse, heading off to pick up Henry and Max. Aside from the song "Banana Phone" that is currently playing, the car is quiet, and I find my head rampant with thoughts. Eli's deafness didn't really hit either Kim or I until I found Kim cradling her head in her hands the night after we received the results of his audiogram- despite large doses of antibiotics, he had lost a good chunk of his hearing from the multiple times his eardrums had perforated. Though there was nothing anyone could have possibly done to prevent it, Kim had told me she still felt guilty, as if it was her fault. Regardless of my multiple attempts to comfort her or change her mind, she remained down on herself, and internally, I didn't blame her- all parents feel guilty when something happens to their child, whether it's their fault or not. However, it now seems as if something as simple as her son being able to enjoy music again is enough to lift an obvious load from her shoulders.

Reaching across the center console, I take Kim's hand.

"I love you." I say softly.

She smiles. "I love you too."

And from the backseat comes the best sound I've heard in a while: "And I love you both!" Eli exclaims.