The ability to hear is a gift

Yay, I got my right hearing aid back (the one that helps me the most) yesterday. It looks different – they redid the earpiece with see-through material.  I an not sure what it is, but I think I like it.  Even if I don’t, it doesn’t matter much anyway, because 1) no one will see it but me and 2) all that matters is that I can hear better.  My hearing aids always seem to break down over holidays (rotten luck) and it seems as if it takes forever to get them back.  Hopefully, neither one of them will break again anytime soon.

You know what this means?  Glee marathon!  I miss that show so much!  What fun is a musical show if you can’t hear it?  So I have been collecting episodes on my DVR.  And also I can watch the Christmas country music special I recorded the other day.  Music galore!

I thought I did just fine with just my left hearing aid…  once I changed the battery, that is!  Ha, ha!  I don’t always notice when that hearing aid stops working, and sometimes I am just too lazy to get up to find a new battery and put it in there.  And then I forget about it.  So I go around with one dead hearing aid and one working hearing aid for a few days, or weeks even.  My hearing is weak enough in my left ear that I can do this.  Of course, when I do finally change the battery, I am delighted because my hearing went up a notch.  It is a viscous cycle, let me tell you.

Sometimes, I wonder, if I had lost all my hearing at age 2 and a half, where I’d be today, who I’d be.  If the consequences back then was JUST deafness and speech problems.  Books would play a huge role in my life if that was the case.  They did and still do anyway – it’s true.  But…  what would be different?  Would I be able to drive?  Would I have a job today?  Some people might think it is useless to think of stuff like this, because what is is what is.  I can’t change anything about the past.  No one can.  If I had a choice, I don’t know what I’d do.  If I was a character in a book, maybe I’d have a choice to go back and fix something – told my mother my ears hurt or something.  I don’t know why I didn’t do that.  I could talk.  I don’t know why they didn’t check me out all over before it was too late.  I know they were worried about the tumor and the possibility it had of spreading.  During the first surgery they did, they only removed about 50% of the tumor.  What was left was the size of a walnut (in the shell).  They blasted me with radiation.  Gave me chemo.  Lots of chemo.  They didn’t even know my last chemo was indeed my last.  They didn’t really know what they were doing.  It was the 80s, after all.  Maybe, if I was sick with neuroblastoma  today, they would have gone for the whole tumor – that seems to be the most effective way to treat this cancer.

I can play with the “what-ifs” all I want, but when it comes down to it, I can’t go back and I can’t wish it away.  But I know God has a reason for everything He allows.  And I know – part of the reason for me, for my life, is so I can reach out and help others.  So, to me, it is a gift.  I may not always see it that way, but it is a gift.


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