CSA Veggie Guilt

I’ve had more than enough focus on my hearing lately, though I will write more about that shortly. First, some focus on eating.

First, credit is due to my good friend and writer, Denise Frame Harlan, for the title of this post. She nailed it in a quick FB comment somewhere between cabbage and zucchini. The concept of ‘veggie guilt’ would not have come together so perfectly were I left to my own literary devices. Thanks, Denise and my the Gourd Be With You…

We are members of a CSA this summer.  ‘We’ would more accurately be translated as ‘I.’ If I wasn’t interested in supporting a local farm and managing the produce we receive, it wouldn’t happen. Not in this house with the Happy-mac ‘n-cheese-‘n-cereal Diner and the other I-like-the-idea-of-eating-at-home- but-not-the-reality Diner.  Being good pseudo vegetarians (and not owning a TV til my oldest was ten and ordering cheese from the Amish and wearing Birkenstocks…) I raised my kids on vegetables. “Mom, look!  Artichokes!” they once proclaimed in the produce aisle much to the amazement of a matronly onlooker.  Like all good things, young adults must turn their backs on elements of one’s upbringing. In this case, mine have turned their backs on excessive vegetable consumption. Had I known this was going to be our present reality, I would have rethought the idea of belonging to a CSA this summer.

Enter Veggie Guilt.  If you’ve never been a member of a CSA, suffice it to say that it is a great way to share the burden of farming and weather with local farmers, often ones who farm organically.  Theoretically, it’s a stunning concept and it works really well, um, until the produce starts being harvested. The CSAs I have belonged to have grown great quality veggies. There is no doubt about that and I commend them for all their muddy, sunburned, long houred effort. Really, I do.

But when that fabulous box of produce arrives at home, my task is only beginning. The guilt arrives with the box. “Such lovely Kohlrabi! What the hell am I going to do with it this year?!” “Another cabbage? There are already three in the fridge.” “More zucchini. Oh good.” “What ARE these?”  Our boxes are filled with the things that grow well in Ohio, kohlrabi, Jerusalem artichokes and fennel, among them. (Oh thank you Dear Farm, for not planting fennel this year!) They are not always filled with things we actually wish to eat.

I tend to the rest of my summer life:  running a small business, replacing dying plants in the planters, washing sweaty laundry, turning on and off the air conditioning and, this year, recovering from surgery and learning how to hear again. But, behind the scenes, I KNOW what is in the produce drawer. Laying on top of the kohlrabi (it lasts a LONG TIME, by the way) and underneath the slowly rotting zucchini is a peck of veggie guilt.  I tossed some of it in the huge pot of borscht the other day and a little bit in each container of refrigerator pickles. I have added it to the olive oil and freshly ground rosemary slathered on the grilled veggies. Some went into the baked polenta with greens. I also sent plenty spinning down the garbage disposal, not quite sure why the patty pan squash was so bitter; and the recipe SAID the grilled cabbage would be yummy…

Right now, over in the kitchen, the guilt is seeping around the cucumbers and rotting zucchini and the hot and not-so-hot banana peppers and the savoy cabbage that we lovingly soaked in salt water to rid it of farm creatures with no intention of actually EATING IT.  I don’t’ do hot peppers. I am sick of cabbage. The onions I can freeze. The guilt? I will continue to live with it and keep it from overwhelming my summer until the CSA season concludes sometime near November. Next year? I am going to the farmer’s markets instead of the joining the CSA.  I’m longing to live veggie guilt free again. Live and learn and eat cabbage….

Bionic Travels: Day Three

I went out walking for the first time with my CI on this evening. I had no hopes of hearing birds or the other marvelous creatures that inhabit Ohio in August. I just went out. What I discovered was a group of aliens building something in a workshop in my head! Imagine that… they have taken up residence without my express permission.  (I must have given it with all those forms I signed before surgery…)

I live in a quiet, fairly auto free neighborhood and therefore my world was still except for the workshop activity. It was very distracting, though I guess I wouldn’t mind so much if they were building me some shelving for my fabric. They weren’t. Aliens don’t deal in fabric…they like hard things with lots of metal and they throw sound around like it’s a toy. I think they especially like Slinkies and anything that emanates a high pitch twirl. Creeps.  

Fortunately I also inhabit an imperfect world, so I had plenty of problems to work out and finally, after 20 minutes or so, my mind was able to adjust the slightest bit and wander off to ponder other important things.  (Very sorry that I wasn’t able to solve your problems … leave them here and I will try IF I get around to it…) 

That being the better part of my evening walk, I will add the positive note that I heard the footfalls of the runner who came up behind me! THAT sound is the reason I took the cochlear implant plunge.  Reasons to date: the runner’s footfall, myself peeing, the computer keyboard, the car turn signal, running water in the kitchen sink.  The list will grow daily so I am told. Onward…

Cochlear Implant: Activation Day!!

(Written August 2, three days ago): 

I’m turned on. I admit it.

Most middle age women keep that thing sort of quiet, you know. But, keeping ‘quiet’ has been the problem, so getting turned on will change all THAT!! … Just a little lame cochlear implant humor. I’m sure I will be able to come up with plenty more once I am feeling humorous again.  Right now, the afternoon after my morning activation, humor is not at the top of my list.

It’s a Process they tell me.  I KNOW about processes… they require patience! and fortitude! and hope! and waiting! and humor! and prayer! They also require support from others and I’m more than a little grateful that I’ve been the recipient of love and care from all over. Only one of my friends can REALLY relate to the strangeness that the beginning of the Process threw at me this morning. But, ONE is better than none. It’s a total God – Story that my CI wearing friend Wendy is in my life. She was also the one who finally pushed me over edge to take this plunge. I’m not sure anyone else was truly qualified, though some tried.  Regardless, here I am. Bionic.

Some people have a misunderstanding that getting a CI will restore lost hearing and that magically, one will ‘hear again.’ That’s not exactly true. In fact, the only part that is true is that one will hear something again, but it’s nothing like normal hearing. Some day, as the Process continues, I may actually feel as though I have almost normal hearing.  After all, our nerves and brains are marvelous creatures, even for the middle aged.  And, our mind is happy to trick us sometimes too…  and sometimes it is OK to be tricked. Other times….well, that’s a different story.

Right now, there is no denying that ‘normal hearing’ is NOT part of the deal with a CI. My audiologist (I am learning that the term ‘audi’ is what CI wearers prefer to say, can I adjust to that too?!) took me through the standard routine… raise your hand when you hear a sound or feel something.  I did hear sounds. That’s good--it’s working. Then she went through the same sounds asking for the level at which I perceived them, from ‘barely’ to ‘too loud’.  They were all set at my determined level of ‘medium.’ Soon thereafter was the moment of activation.

Before I say more. I’ve been trying to discern my feelings about heading into that moment as I’ve watched the date grow closer. Fear? Not exactly. Anxiety? Some. Excitement? None. Apprehension?  That’s the best one. I was feeling wary of the coming unknown and having to 100% rely on the stories and best guesses of others.  Everyone’s hearing journey is different, so even with preparation, it’s ours alone. No CI tour guide to lead me on the exact path. I have a direction in which to head and then must find my way alone. Sort of. (Sartre, anyone? Or no one, as the case may be?)

I need a chocolate break. 

So, what did it sound like? The moment of activation, with my audi having set my tones to respond to my determination of ‘soft’ and ‘medium’ was, well… horrifying!  Bombarded by all sorts of unearthly electronic beeps and echoes and swirling noises, I took off my glasses prepared to burst into the tears I felt coming. (Is THIS what I signed up for? THIS is what a CI sounds like?  Get. Me. Out. Of. Here!!) My husband could see that response in me, but the audi wasn’t attuned to it.  I couldn’t even really tell her what I was hearing it was so awful.  (An aside, unlike many CI recipients, I have only gone one short month without hearing anything on that side. My old hearing aid wasn’t great, but I still had sound coming in.  I think that matters in my perception.) Soon, thankfully, I was able to suggest dialing down the high frequencies and tried my best to help describe the sounds entering my brain. No easy task.

I am still trying. I’m an artist, so the things that come to my mind are visual responses to the auditory stimuli. How strange is that?  Strange, I know. But I’m going to go there anyway.  It’s like electronic sounds swirling into mid air. It’s like sounds and frequencies jumping on a trampoline--jumping on a trampoline in a padded room where they sometimes hit the wall or ceiling and bounce back again. Hard. It’s like your neighbor slamming a door or ringing a dinner bell (yea, right!) at the end of a long tunnel. A tunnel that echoes like crazy. It’s like living inside a computer terminal and we all know what that’s like, don’t we?! Those are descriptors for random sounds. I have no idea if they are actually connected to sounds in the environment or not as I have no clue from where the sounds originate. Maybe it’s the sound of my blood flowing!! However, some of those sounds (at appropriate moments) are when I am peeing. I already told you I am turned on. This should not come as a surprise.  I haven’t heard myself pee in years. If I can hear that on day one, level one, I’m a little worried.

Speech? That’s another story. It’s the most important one to me, actually, and the most elusive—a big part of the Process. Miraculously I heard speech today, right away. Not all CI users report that in the first hour. “Speech” is a relative term here. I was prepared for munchkins, Charlie Brown’s grown ups (wah wah wah wah wah), Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck.  What I got was a cross between soprano robots and chipmunks.  My journey, my way, remember… (Maybe I will draw those chipmunks, in fact… as it was suggested I draw the sounds I hear.)  My audi had this cute little page where one points to the words one hears to discern one’s listening comprehension. She hid her mouth (no lip-reading allowed as we hard of hearing folks are GOOD at lip-reading!!) and said some words and I was to point to them on her cute little page if I could tell what she said. I heard words and I pointed to the correct images! But, describing the moment, I was too near tears to declare with glee “dang, I’m good!”  She was visibly surprised at my ability to recognize any words. That bodes well.

The rest of the immediate journey goes like this:

1) Figure out how to attach the processor and ear thingy (likely it has a more official name.) Today it seems more like a poisonous bug, or a young raptor ready to bite me at any moment… I do not want to touch it, remove it, or explore it. It’s plastic, truth be told--$8,000 worth of plastic and computer parts.  But, I need to go slowly. The thing is magnetized to my head, which on the initial attaching hurt more than a little, so my audi downgraded the magnet strength. Gosh, they’ve thought of everything! I’m a two. That made it more comfortable, though that part of my ear and head are still sore from surgery, so I’m bound to not want to mess with the thing much.

2) Upgrade the program on my CI every two days until I see her again next week for more ‘mapping,’ as the programming of a CI is called. With every program upgrade come new echoes, more tunnel sounds, snake-like hissing with every ‘s’ sound and no doubt, more trampoline antics.  I can’t wait. (That would be sarcastic…)

3) Be willing to actually show up for Mapping #2. I may have to ask my chauffeur, who was warmly willing to let me lean on him with my weak knees after today’s session, to make sure I go at the appointed time. Today’s not so fun experience and what these ‘program upgrades’ are supposed to offer me doesn’t make me real eager for next week’s visit.  It’s a Process. It’s a Process.  It’s a Process.

Finally, at the end of the strange electronic tunnel, I have been able to hear not only myself peeing, but the car turn signal, my computer keyboard and running water in the kitchen sink. Stay tuned…

Cochlear Implant Surgery: The Healing Story

(Written a few days after surgery in July):

 I’m tired.  I’m mostly deaf.  It’s hot outside and I am content to lay around in the air conditioning.  (Oh, wait… that’s normal for me…)  I think I underestimated what CI surgery was going to mean as far as recovery.  Honestly, I didn’t look into it all that much and I probably should have.  I figured an hour long surgery plus the annoyance of losing what little hearing (I thought) I had… how hard can that BE? 

Hard.

Plus, I don’t think of myself as ‘needing more recovery time’ because I am merely 54 years old.  I can walk 100 miles during vacation, so how could a little surgery wipe me out?  I usually don’t feel ‘older’, even with my snowy white hair. But, this time, it’s hitting me.  I found a cochlear implant group on Facebook and joined up which I should have done a few months ago, actually.  Turns out that most people need two – four weeks to recover from the initial surgery.  So, I am quite normal in that I am still in the recovery mode, I just didn’t EXPECT that to be the case. 

The short story is that what little hearing I had is gone. Whether or not my one precious “Oh I can hear the trucks in the driveway” frequency returns or not remains to be seen.  It’s like someone stuffed a wad of cotton in your ear and left it there. But, there’s no cotton.  Just no hearing.  That, in turn, has made it harder to hear through my other ear. I underestimated the amount of sound I WAS getting through my right ear which in some fashion stereo balanced what I hear in my left ear.  Needless to say, it takes a ton of energy to try to keep up with any conversation right now.  I bow out of situations where there’s a lot to keep up with.

The side affects that are to be expected included strong ringing in my ear… so strong I thought an ALARM was going off the second night after surgery!  Dizziness which has mostly passed, praise God.  A sore jaw which is a little more pronounced now than it was, a cool black eye (never had one before) and a sore head where the computer thing is jammed up there inside my scalp. It’s kind of like a bump to your head.  Weird. My friend and CI guru told me my body will adjust to that in time and I won’t notice it.  Oh, and the basics of an incision behind my ear that needs to heal. The worst, surprisingly, seven days later after I’d been up and about for a couple of days.  The side affects of the prophylactic antibiotic decided to burst onto the scene.  I was flattened for the whole day in gastrointestinal and headache misery.  The head bumps and sore jaw and ear ringing are most welcome in comparison.  It was music to my ears (har har) when my husband called the doc on Monday morning and he said I did NOT have to finish the last 5 pills!! 

I can’t see my incision as it’s covered up with steri strips and well, I haven’t looked!!!  Ick.  I DID take a regular old shower this morning, not the ‘hold a cup over your ear’ shower that was suggested up to this point. I get activated August 2. That’s when everyone around me will turn into munchkins!!!  Getting sound in some way will be nice, so they say...but hearing my friends and family talk like they live along the yellow brick road, not so much.   That will begin the PROCESS of learning to hear again. 

Everyone keeps telling me “It’s a PROCESS.”  Yep.  Love those concepts of “process” and “patience”.  Character building, of course.  Making me more compassionate… preparing me to be a better listener (functionally and emotionally), helping to enlarge my world once again… all benefits that are no doubt coming around the corner.  That corner which exists somewhere in the colors of October. 

It’s a mix right now, which you’ve no doubt caught.  I have no doubt that the Lord led me to this point and he is near to me as I walk through it, for sure.  There will be numerous God moments and connections that come up through all of this, if I but keep my awareness and heart open. I am and I will.  I’m journaling and trying to listen, happily reminded by my spiritual director that I can hear the Lord quite clearly when he speaks to me, regardless of the status of my physical hearing… a simple reminder to listen with my eyes and heart as well as my ears. 

On that note, I’m off to bed for more rest and healing. I can’t sleep on that ear yet and it might take a while til I can, but I can sleep. For that, and so much more, I will continue to be thankful. 

A New Era

“Welcome back, Andi.”  “Thanks, Andi…”  It’s been two years since I have updated this blog. I have no ideal intentions as far as the regularity of my postings, but I’m writing again and feel the need to make some of my musings public. The main catalyst behind NOW? The cochlear implant that was just installed on the right side of my head.  I was a candidate for getting one of these four long years ago, but I needed to wait. I expected the Process to be intense and potentially draining and I needed my energy to be focused on my mom who was battling ALS.  She’s dancing again with her family and friends in heaven, so now was the time for me.  I was ‘free’ (are we ever ‘free’ emotionally to attend to the hard work that needs to be done in our lives??!) to focus on surgery and relearning how to hear.

Apparently I am also ‘free’ to write and draw and take a pottery class and needlefelt and sew and travel and read the New York Times on Sundays.  I’ve also been a Creative Memories consultant for 16 years and our company has recently met its demise… the same time as my needs to focus on hearing have risen. Coincidences are God appointments in my book, and this timing is one such appointment.  I’m showing up. Creative Memories is changing names and foci and so am I. I’m an empty nester too.  I wasn’t four years ago.  Big change.  Big ‘FREE.’

I changed my header, still pretty clueless about how to make this blog look interesting. I updated a few things, but in one’s fifties, one doesn’t change a whole lot from year to year, other than random surgeries and moves and losses and… well… OK some things DO change. Regardless. My interests remain the same, though emphases shift around. Right now, it’s Learning To Hear and quietly do art inbetween conversations with others and the world.

Rather than bore my “Andi Fan Club” with more direct emails about my Bionic Hearing Journey, I’d rather just share a link to my blog so anyone can gleefully!! come on over and read my journey if they feel like it.  I try not to be dry and boring as there is enough of that in the world.  I also avoid technicalities which may present a problem for me as I adjust to the abundant technicalities of this new device I am wearing. But, I can be smart when I want to. Fortunately I can develop my want to one day at a time.  Join me? 

The Fair

There is a first time for everything indeed. State fairs. I had never been to one before but since I enjoy the tiny county fairs, I was a willing and even eager participant in the Puyallup Fair yesterday. This is no small statement coming from a self avowed Hater of All Things Amusement Park. The fair is different.

At the fair you can look at intricate quilts and wood carving. At the fair you can be move by photos of different lands. At the fair you can touch baby piglets. At the fair you can even smell and step in manure. Take THAT Cedar Point and Six Flags! If you wish to amuse ME you will have to add the olfactory ambience of farmland manure blowing through roller coaster alley and put a photography exhibit besides the $6 per cup lemonade stand. (Not that the fair is exactly cheap! But I don't know what else there is at the amusement park other than roller coasters and overpriced lemonade!)

Regardless. I had a great time mingling with the cowboy hat clad crowd. It was also 67 degrees and sunny and being the weather wimp that I am, the day's perfection added to my enjoyment. Topping the enjoyment list was the photography exhibit in the fine arts building. I was moved by some soul stirring amateur photographers who travel the world capturing images that bring us all closer together. The smiles from the ladies drinking tea in Mongolia will remain etched in my mind with joy. And the western owl peeking from behinds the tree that won top honors? I would actually buy a print were than an option!

Ever heard of Wool Riders? I had not. My mental jury is still out regarding the wisdom of putting helmet clad three to six year olds on the back of a 'raging' sheep to ride it for six seconds. However, it was an amusing rodeo scene and I took plenty of photos since this was quite the oddity to my back east sensibilities. The winner of the Puyallup Fair Wool Rider Rodeo will head to Fresno to compete for $15,000 in prize money. Get those inner thigh muscles in shape little dinks! Prize money could be yours!

I am eager to share photos of this oddity as well as some of the colorful grange exhibits that tap a rainbow of creativity in the farming community. Skagit County's includes bald eagles and seashells! Ah... I DO like Washington State! My frequent travels here meant I had good reason to jettison my 17" heavy laptop in exchange for an iPad. HOWEVER, in order to adequately use Blogger (one of the reasons I GOT the thing in the first place) I need to figure out an app so that you can be the happy recipient of photos to accompany my blog posts, So far, I'm not there yet. I'll add them ASAP. For the simple minded climbing the learning curve to learn all these 'magical' technological tools to make life easy (HA!), takes extraordinary amounts of time. Thus. Photos at 11.