Can you hear me now?

This is the post where I explain how I lost one-half of my hearing.

Well, ‘how’ is a loose term.

This post has been churning for a while.  I just haven’t gotten up the energy to process the information and thoughts circling inside my head.

I’ve been one-eared – monoaural – for three weeks and one day.  So let me take you back to Monday, May 17.

I teach piano lessons in the late afternoon.  I’d finished with my 4:30 lesson and was on my way to pick up Ben and Annie.  During the lesson I’d noticed that my left ear had “plugged.”  It had happened before … since high school … feels like water in the ears.  Usually it would go away on its own after a while, maybe 10-15 minutes.  Sometimes swallowing or shaking my head would help.  Not this time.

I’d finished making supper and was getting ready to head back to church to teach my evening piano lesson while the rest of the family sat down to eat.  My ear was still plugged.  I remember telling Brynn how funny my ear felt.  After her lesson, I drove home.  As I turned on to the highway, I realized that not only was my ear plugged, but I couldn’t hear anything.  Because even when you plug your ears, you still hear the sound of your voice…even some of the noise around you.  I snapped my fingers next to my left ear  – and got nothing.  I tapped my left ear – and got nothing.  Well, I suppose I got something.  I got scared.  I thought about stopping at the ER on my way home since we live a block from a hospital, but decided to wait until morning.  Walking inside the house, I told Ryan that I couldn’t hear anything on the left side.  Actually, ‘couldn’t hear anything’ is not accurate.  I could definitely hear something – the sound of ringing and constant static noise.  If you suffer from Tinnitus, you know what I’m talking about.  It’s the perception of sound in the absence of any corresponding external sound.  Whooshing.  High-pitched ringing.  We sat at the kitchen table and I started to feed Annie her supper.  Her delighted squeals were piercing.  Ben’s loud screams were almost too much to handle.  My right ear was on overload.  So I excused myself from the table and went to bed.

Tuesday morning came, and there had been no change.  No improvement.  I was disappointed, but also grateful my right ear was still normal.  I woke up early and researched local ENTs.  Reading about sudden hearing loss the night before, I knew it was classified as a medical emergency and I needed to see a doctor ASAP.  I called my top choice first, and the secretary told me to come to the office.  There was no open appointments, but they would squeeze me in to see the doctor as time allowed.

I sent an email to my co-workers, dropped the kids off at daycare and went to a rehearsal for an elementary school choir.  I was accompanying their spring concert the following day.  That first musical experience after my hearing loss was hard to describe.  I felt numb, frustrated, worried.  Accompanying the choir that morning, I felt as if one of my arms had been cut off.  I couldn’t rely on simple things that I’d taken for granted as an accompanist.  I had no apparent sense of dynamic level (my volume compared to the choir’s).  My right ear was doing its darndest to filter all incoming noise, and my head was spinning with the change from surround sound to monoaural.  It was confusing to hear all the sound come in my right ear knowing some of those sounds were happening on the left side of the room.

After a 20-minute drive to the doctor’s office, I took my seat and waited.  I’d made it halfway through the current issue of People Magazine when my name was called.  The secretary had told me to block out the whole morning, so I was pleasantly surprised at how quickly they got me in to see Dr. D.  I explained what had happened, and that No, I’d not been sick; no, I hadn’t hit my head; no, I wasn’t dizzy; no, I can’t hear any sounds; yes, there is constant ringing. He grabbed something that looked like a tuning fork and made it ring next to my left ear.  Nothing.  I could hear the pitch in my right ear, and as he moved the tuning fork to my right side the strong vibrations inside my right ear made me wiggle a bit.  Dr. D. nodded his head.  “Let’s get you in for a hearing test.  They’ll call you in, and after you’re finished you’ll come back to see me.  Then I can tell you what we do next.”

A lovely gal led me to the hearing test room.  I was tested with headphones over my ears and then with little earbud things placed behind my ears, on the bone, I think.  I strained to hear any little sound that could possibly be the *ding* tone as she tested my left ear, and I heard about six of them – all in the same frequency.  At times I’d feel an intense vibration that made my whole head shake uncontrollably but no tone.  She showed me the graph results, and they were not good.  o% function, left side.  Fail.

She explained that the intense vibrations were simply caused by the testing tone being presented at such a high volume.  Whoa.  And I still heard nothing.  So loud that your head shakes, but no tone.  Remarkable.

My ear drum was tested, and it was fine.  So I returned to the examination room to wait for Dr. D.  He brought in the folder with the test results and said, “Well, I’m sorry to say your loss is quite severe.  As you can see here, you’re really not hearing anything – certainly nothing within the speech spectrum.  Unfortunately, this type of hearing loss is something that is not well understood.  You have sudden sensorineural hearing loss.  It wasn’t caused by any outside trauma, say a concussion or build-up of wax.  There is some sort of damage in the nerve – probably in the hair cells which are the sensory input for the nerve.  In terms of recovery, we can’t accurately predict if your hearing will return, or to what extent.  Some patients recovery spontaneously, and for others the loss is permanent.  We will try steroids, an aggressive dose.  You’ll take prednisone for about a week, and if there is no change we can try injecting a steroid into your ear.”

Sudden sensorineural hearing loss.  In some of my research, it’s described as “one of the most perplexing and controversial unsolved mystery in otolaryngology.”  There are four categories of probable causes – viral, vascular, membrane-rupture, and auto-immune.  The tricky part?  Only 10-15% of SSHL cases have a determined cause, and that’s usually because the patient has a clear medical history which points to something.  So 85-90% of people diagnosed with SSHL live in the mystery.  I did have an MRI scan right away.  It was a clear scan, showing no evidence of benign tumor or stroke or anything out-of-the-ordinary.  The steroid treatments (I finished the oral dose and had my third shot of steroids yesterday, with one shot left next week) have not seemed to have any effect.  65% of patients recover spontaneously – just as quickly as the hearing disappeared.  Most of that spontaneous recovery happens within two weeks.  I research almost every day, reading about probable causes, trying not to get too anxious about all the scary things that *could* cause something like this.  I read lists of additional symptoms, noting that I have almost no other symptoms except the hearing loss.  I’ll go in for a second opinion to be sure that the MRI was read correctly and to hear another doctor’s perspective.

I had a follow-up hearing test one week after I was diagnosed, and the test results showed an inkling – a smidgen – of increased hearing activity.  Not even close to being considered “improvement,” however.  My hearing did get worse, however, in one of the frequency ranges.  I’ll be tested again next week, and I predict that I may have some increase in hearing.  When Benjamin talks close to my left ear, or loudly when he’s on my left side, I can sometimes hear a his voice as a buzz.  No tone, no vocal recognition, but a buzz.  Fuzz.  Weird.

What does this mean for my job as a musician?  I don’t quite have the energy to dive into that tonight.  I do know that I’m going to keep doing what I do, and do it the best I can.  Even if it means learning new things because I’m one-eared now.  In the past three weeks, I’ve been forced to rely on others but also realized how important and good my instincts are.  My right ear has adapted well.  If there were a time to work for a church, it’s a time like this.  My name is on the prayer list and I’ve gotten so many “Why are we praying for you?” questions from people.  How wonderful to know that the prayer list is a tool and not just a list on the back of the announcement brochure.  I have amazing co-workers.  There is not a day that at least three people ask how I’m doing and sit down in my office to help me figure out what in the world happened.    The first couple of days after the hearing loss, my inbox was filled with emails of encouragement and support and prayer from my wonderful colleagues.  What a network of support – I am so grateful.

Thanks to all who have asked questions, sent emails, left messages… I have not answered you all.  I will.  Give me another week or so.  Days are mentally exhausting…and I don’t realize how exhausted I am until I sit down at 9:30 or 10pm after finishing up baths for the kiddos, rocking time with Annie, storytime and songtime and prayertime with Ben, washing up the dishes, picking up the toy bombs, and folding inevitable loads of laundry.  So much additional energy needs to be spent on listening and filtering and watching, now that my input is limited to the right side.  Looking at the person who’s talking, situating myself so the right side is nearest to the noise, watching the kids rather than listening for cues.

Please keep praying.  Pray that my hearing returns spontaneously.  Pray that I continue to remain optimistic, focused on what I can still do and hear.  Pray that I let myself be sad sometimes.  Pray that this doesn’t happen to my right ear (the chance is extremely rare…like in the 3% range).  Pray for patience, for me and for my family.

Thank goodness my spare change jar is full.  The jar was a Mother’s Day gift from my first year as a mom…designated as my ‘Spa Fund.’  A massage will do these tense shoulders a world of good.

And in other news, it’s been five months since my last post.  So long, in fact, that I almost forgot my wordpress.com password.  No lie.

Benjamin is POTTY TRAINED!!  A few days after his third birthday, he just decided that it was time.  And that was that.  Good for him!    He even sleeps in underwear at night, waking us up if he needs to use the restroom.  He is a sweet, sweet boy.  He loves to pretend-play school and store.  We have a schoolbook that he works in, tracing and coloring and practicing letters.  He loves to “fight bad guys,” and wants to be a baseball player when he grows up.  Ben sings all the time, amazing me with how quickly he learns songs after he hears them.  It’s late and I can’t figure out how to convert a photo of him…so check him out here with his robot.  Every day in June, Ben is creating a robot for #30daysofcreativity … something Ryan is doing with some colleagues at work.  It’s gained an exciting following, with almost 500 followers on Twitter.

Our beautiful baby girl is a crawling maniac now.  She motors around with ease, pulling herself up to stand within seconds.  Annie’s favorite time of the day – without question – is bathtime.  As soon as I turn on the bathwater, she quickly crawls to the bathtub and stands up to watch the water fill the tub.  Her face is just priceless when I pick them up at the end of the day.  I give Ben a big hug while Annie crawls over to the doorway; I pick up my best girl and if I’m not looking at her she turns herself sideways towards my face, like, “Mom! I’m over heee-re!”  Funny.  She eats just about anything – veggies, fruits, meats, yogurt, cheese, bread, ice cream.  She claps, she smiles, she laughs.  Annie’s a happy girl.  She also knows how to play Peek-a-Boo Barn on my iPad.  Smart cookie.

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