I hear through machines. Big ole’ super powered bubbas of hearing aids that wrap around my ears and fill up my ear canals.
Sound moves in waves that flow from the machines. Things can seem very quiet as the digital part of the hearing aids suppress background sounds, then grow all of the sudden to a roar when background sound comes to the forefront, then the digital part of the hearing aid kicks in and it becomes quiet again as the background sound is suppressed.
It feels much like the ebb and flow of a wave.
The sound is tinny. There is a mechanical cast to it that I don’t like as much as I like the perfect hazy silence that I have when I take my hearing aids out.
I imagine that real hearing must be similar to the silence that I enjoy. I imagine it has a melodious, non-tinny flow, all soft edges and non-mechanical. The idea of just waking up and being able to hear with your ears kind of trips me out.
I’m mentioning this because yesterday I was in the ICU waiting room with my kids, my mom and my nieces. Sound was flowing through my ear-machines and it became a rumble with the background white noise.
A woman was going to be taken off of life support, sound was thunderous, reverberating through my hearing aids. Then quiet.
Life is an ebb and flow, a roar and silence. It’s movement and stillness.
Ebb and flow. Roar and quiet.
My brother’s life is thrumming back, his heart is beating stronger every day, his blood flows through his sepsis and the cells within his blood fight to live. His surgeries are happening almost-daily, each one bringing him more healing.