MC Spoo

The Cyborg Cometh…

Guess I haven't written anything in awhile. I think I wanted to just have some great big, awesome thing to say... and the closest I can come to that is:

I can hear.

Yep. The Processor for the Cochlear WORKED. I can hear. And good lord, what the hell am I hearing?

This is a really loud world you folks have here... how the heck haven't you all lost your minds already? I'm hearing stuff that makes no real sense to me.. and realizing how much of the world of sound I missed...

The sound of a turn signal

My Dad and I went out to dinner. He's driving. I'm listening to things as we drive, and I hear the really, loud sound... just for a moment.. trying to place the sound. It's really quite loud. I do not recognize the sound...

We drive a little further, and then I hear it again. This time I ask... "Dad, is that a siren in the distance?"

"No, I don't hear a siren. What are you hearing?"

"a siren, I think. it comes and goes..."

then he makes a left turn into the restaurant parking lot... and I hear it again. This time, I'm looking right at the steering wheel, and the sound is in time with the turn blinker.

I burst out laughing... "Oh! That sound was the turn signal."

The cadence of the turn signal was similar to a police siren (at least in my aural memory of a police siren) and I thought the turn signal was a police siren. yeah.

Typing. Shoes hitting the floor as you walk. Shoes squeak. Phone busy signals. Wind Chimes. The Wind (sounds much different now). My cats...

I had a discussion with my nephew about my implant. I told him "Your uncle Mike is a cyborg now. You know what that means?"

and then he points at my shirt, where the remote for my Cochlear is under my shirt.. .and the light came on it.

"You're like Iron Man!"

"Well no.. Yes. I am Iron Man."

and now he's been going around, telling everyone his Uncle is a cyborg, repeatedly advising his mom....
"you know uncle Mike is a cyborg, right? Like Darth vader."

It's not just that the conversation is adorable and cute... it's that I heard his squeaky little voice and know what he said without anyone interpreting it for me. I heard my nephew.

When I came home from the processor hook up... I was by myself. I walked into the house, hearing my cavernous foot steps.. listening to the sounds of my house... the floor squeaking, the sound of the toilet flushing (WHHOOOOOOOOSH!)... sat down in the chair by my computer... and sent a note to Facebook: "I can hear". Then I just broke down crying... because I knew I'd have moments like that. Where I would be able to talk to my nephew.. and hear what he says. Here him laughing, because Uncle Mike is such a funny guy... hear him say "Good night, Uncle Mike. I love you."

Yeah. I'm 41 years old.

I broke my leg this year. Lost my hearing. Got it back. and I cried.

Filed under: Cochlear, Deaf No Comments

Grandpa Smith (Bumpa)

I've been thinking about my Grandpa Smith an awful lot lately. Just when I let my mind cool off, library and computers... I start trying to remember what my grandpa's voice sounded like. What he looked like, smelled like, sounded like, acted like.I keep having visions of him, ata  birthday, giving me a tent. It was an orange pup tent. We used to use it to sleep out in the back yard.

I remember a big guy. Freckles. He always smiled when he saw us coming. Chewed tobacco (thought it was gross smelling, but he was grandpa...) Grandpa had red hair on the sides, greying on the top. he had a favorite chair, a La-Z-Boy type chair, with wood arms. It was parked in front of the TV. When we visited the farm, we'd go out on the tractor, pick corn and vegetables. Play in the fields. The smell of well water, and what I only learned later in my life was booze (Grandma!)

I was told all my life I look like my grandpa.. we called him Bumpa. That was Beth. When she was a baby, she couldn't say Grandpa, so she started calling him Bumpa, and we all picked up on it. We all called him Bumpa. It's a family traidtion of sorts now, except we couldn't get Tima to call my Dad Bumpa...

I was driving along,a nd look at my own hands. And I saw my Bumpa. Driving his pickup, a 1980 Chevy Pickup, bought from Feldman Chevy on Grand River (they boned him on the purchase).

Just freaky stuff.Why am I thinking about Bumpa right now?

Filed under: Family No Comments