Thursday, July 19, 2012

The Hook Up, Part 1


It's Thursday, June 21, 2012, and Allison and I are in the Audiologists’ waiting room at the Austin Ear Clinic. We're waiting. We’re early because Allison thought the appointment was at 8:30 instead of 9. When we realized we had some time to kill, we went to Starbucks, but now I’m not sure if coffee is a good idea. 


Amy opens the door and smiles and greets us and we follow her back to the room. She introduces us to a graduate student who’s going to be helping her and we all find our places: the grad student in front of the computer; Amy sitting right next to her, so she can give her instructions and watch the computer screen; Allison in a chair that’s pulled up against the desk and turned so she’s facing them. I’m on the other side of the room frantically pulling out cables and wireless mics and the two cameras. I’m opening the two tripods and I don’t understand how anyone can do this quickly or without looking like a klutz. Allison and Amy’s conversation naturally falls into the subject of the implant and at one point I say, Wait! Wait! I want to get everything on video! They politely acquiesce, or try to. In less than a minute they’re back to talking about the implant but I don’t say anything because how could they talk about anything else?
I hand them both tiny mics to clip on their shirts.They’re both familiar with how the wireless system works by now and once they’re ready, I’m ready. They test their mics, I listen with the headphones on, we’re good to go.

Twenty-two different electrodes and their individual stimulation levels. The different colours represent levels at different times (see key). This MAP is not Allison's. This is just an image I pulled off the internet to give you an idea of how the graph looks.
The first thing Amy does is plug a thin cable into a mini-jack on Allison’s earpiece, connecting Allison’s processor to Amy’s computer.  A blank graph appears on the computer screen.

Amy turns to look at Allison. “We are going to start counting some beeps, so that way we can program your implant. We are going to try different pitches of sound and you may feel some of them before you hear them. The goal is to set the programming where it’s not too loud, not too soft, and you’re hearing voices okay. I’ve already tested the internal processor, the part under your skin, and everything’s fine with it. Ready for the beeps?
“Yes.” Allison has a big grin on her face.
“I want you to listen for a low beep.” Amy turns back to the screen then back to Allison, waits.
“Nothing?” she asks.
Allison shakes her head.
Amy looks at the screen and then back to Allison. Nothing? Allison thinks then says she can’t tell.
“I’m going to point to my ear when it’s supposed to start,” Amy says, reaching up and touching her left ear.
“Okay.”
“Ready?” Amy asks and touches her ear.
Most of the time Amy is looking at the computer screen, telling the graduate student what she wants her to do and then watching to make sure she does it. I assume she is choosing the pitch, adjusting the volume (level of stimulation), and setting the number of beeps.
She turns to look at Allison again and raises her eyebrows. Nothing? Allison shakes her head no.
These are tense moments. Is she going to hear something? Anything? Of course she is, I tell myself, just as I’ve told myself over and over again these last few months. So I wait. I’m waiting for Allison to say Yes, I heard that!
Amy reaches up and touches her ear, looks at Allison. Allison nods.
“I think I heard that,” Allison says. “Beep beep?”
“How many?” Amy asks, signing the question at the same time.
“Two,” Allison says.
“Good.”

And that’s it – no fanfare or fireworks or clapping – but I take a sigh of relief. It’s working – she hears something.

The process continues like this for half an hour, with Allison nodding more and more often, guessing the correct number of beeps as Amy moves from electrode to electrode, increasing the pitch. Amy is setting the stimulation range – the minimum volume, under which she can’t detect a noise, to the maximum volume, above which the noise becomes painful. The differences in louder sounds are much harder to distinguish, Amy tells us, so she is just focusing on softer sounds today. 

In about 25 minutes we are done, and Misha and Pete and the kids are still not here. Amy suggests starting over from the beginning with the first electrode, and explains that often by the time a patient has gone through all the electrodes once, she can go back to the first one and suddenly the patient can hear the beeps at a much lower volume. “This is because,” Amy explains, “the patient knows what to listen for.” This is just another way of saying that in the twenty-five minutes Allison’s brain has been receiving this new information, it has already learned to process it and make connections.
And sure enough, once Amy starts back with the first electrode, Allison is able to hear much softer sounds. That’s crazy! Think about it: Allison can actually hear sounds that just twenty minutes previous she could not.
Amy unplugs Allison from the computer then asks if we want to wait until our parents get there before she turns on the implant. (When Allison was plugged into the computer, her implant bypassed the microphone. So technically, her implant hasn’t been turned on to the outside world.) We say yes, we want them here when it’s first turned on.

To be continued . . ..



Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Update: Wednesday, July 11, 2012. Shelter Island, New York.

At dinner tonight Allison mentioned that earlier, when she plugged into her phone to listen to some music, she was disappointed that it didn’t sound too good. “Then I remembered I had a specific program for music,” she said, “and the difference was amazing!”


“Yeah,” Hayden said, “I walked into the bedroom and I thought I saw you with earbuds in, and I was thinking, ‘What?’”

“You weren’t wearing earbuds were you?” I asked.

“No, I was plugged right in with the wire.” (Meaning, she plugged her implant directed into her phone.)

Still, what Hayden was trying to express was (I think) how surprised he was to see his mom listening to music, how incredible it is that Allison can listen to music and understand the words and enjoy it.

*

Last night, Allison, Rob, and I went out for dinner, just the three of us. I can’t remember the last time we did that, and in the spirit of celebration, I decided to have a margarita (I don’t usually drink, but we were sitting at the bar, waiting for our table). Since I’m also the designated driver (Rob let his license expire years ago), I made a joke about one of the two of them having to drive me home.

“Or we could just walk,” I said, holding up my drink and pretending to swagger. “It would be like that time Nik fell into the ditch, that summer in Sweden – remember?”

Allison shook her head. “It makes me sad to say it, but I’ve missed so much of your conversations, you know?”

“I know,” I said, nodding. “But not anymore!”

“I know,” she said, “And now I’m afraid how much I’m going to hear!”

We laughed, she joked about having a program to turn down her kids, and we waited. The restaurant, at a marina, was busy. When they finally came to get us, they led us around the corner from the main dining area and seated us at a table right outside the noisy kitchen. We were right on the water and I could still hear the loud music playing from the bar.

But the best thing? We talked for almost two hours and I don’t remember once having to repeat what I said because she couldn’t understand me.

Totally crazy.

More fun times to come!