Jimbolions

This post is all about what I like to call my miracle: my implant.

It has been just nine weeks since my activation day, but it is enough time for me to look back and see the impact this miracle has made on my life.

It has transformed me. The person I was before my activation has ceased to exist.

And who was that person?

He was someone who lived “in a bubble.” That person, a stranger to me now, was cut off from the hearing world in which he’d always lived and worked. That person struggled mightily just to get through each day. That person thought himself an expert at “faking it” through conversations by lip-reading.

I’ve learned since that he was a gosh-awful terrible lip-reader. He was far deeper “in the bubble” than he realized. These were typical conversations in my workplace:

“Jimbo, can you tell me how many cheese cakes we sold last month?”

“I’ll take one. Gimmee a cheese steak with mushrooms and onions.”

“No…CHEESE CAKES.”

“Yup. PENN STATE! Go Lions!”

“No, I want to know about our SALES!”

“Sure I want to save the whales. Here’s ten bucks. Save a couple dolphins too, while you’re at it.”

Deep, deep, deep in the bubble, that person. But he vanished after activation, melting quickly away like the froth in a cup of cappuccino. Good riddance!

Jimbo’s back. Miracles, miracles, miracles.

I know my progress so far has been remarkable.  I function very, very well now in the hearing world. I actively engage people in conversation. In fact I seek them out. I am calling people left and right on my wireless phone. I chatted with my brother in North Carolina for two hours the other night. It’s a lot of work, the telephone, but it gets better with each call.

Saturday mornings I go to my office. I am alone in the building. Music hasn’t been played in my office in years, but now my office rocks on Saturday mornings. Like the phone, it’s a bit of work listening to music, but it gets more rewarding every time.

This past week, my family presented me with a birthday gift of Beatles albums on CD, a compilation of their mono mixes. There is still a child-like joy in getting a gift of music; a joy I thought was gone forever.

Music is back. Miracles, miracles, miracles.

What do I do after receiving a gift of this magnitude? I’ve decided to do whatever I can to increase awareness about this procedure. I talk about my implant with anyone I meet. I’m working with a local paper on an article about my procedure and its impact on my life. I’m thinking of starting a local support group.

I feel a responsibility to “pay forward” on a miracle like this. It has made such a difference in my life. Perhaps, in some small way, I can help someone else who is living like I was:  In a bubble.

Banish the Bubble …now how’s that for a slogan?