Things that suck about being deaf in one ear:
- Have to turn stuff up louder than usual in order to hear it.
- Have no idea how loudly or softly I'm speaking. I seem to err on the side of soft and mumbly.
- The tinnitus in my left ear (the deaf one) is loud and annoying.
- Phone conversations are excruciating. Even more so than usual, I mean.
- That was an eight-day-long headache. Ow.
- Asking people to repeat themselves is a pain.
- No longer have killer startle reflex; am forced to rely on sight and empathy to tell if people are sneaking up behind me.
- Had forgotten how mich i'm reliant on hearing to navigate. Keep bumping into things.
- Dizzy spells.
- Constant cotton-ball-in-ear feeling.
- Feeling removed by a couple of steps from everything.
- Missing synaesthesia. Entire left side of face "feels" dead because I can't hear it being touched. Sounds no longer spill over into sight and kinesthenic senses.
Things that don't suck about being deaf in one ear:
- Newfound ability to cope with the world. It's so much *easier* to deal with noise when I can't hear half of it. I haven't had a single incident of senory overload since I lost half my hearing. And I've been tired, stressed, and ill; prime overload conditions. It's been kind of nice.
- I got to see my nice doctor again.
- The sensation of oil trickling into my ear and coming to rest against my eardrum is uniquely sensual and i get to experience it twice a day.
- Can't be blamed for missing things I can't hear.
- The loss is constant; unlike the on-again, off-again deafness I had for years, this is at least consistent.
Yeah, due to the nasty cold i'm STILL having difficulty shaking, I have this weird non-infection that's basically deafened my left ear temporarily. The doctor gave me ear drops, zinc, and herb capsules, told me to take them faithfully and I would get better. And I have--though my hearing hasn't returned, my ear's at least quit hurting.
A lesson in paitence and tolerance, this is. Though I am normally both paitent and tolerant, stress brings out the worst in me and my inner five-year-old comes out, proclaiming, "I can do it MYSELF!" I shove people away and spend much of my time intently focused on my stress, internalizing it and attempting to shift mountains with a hand trowel--
--ignoring the people with the bulldozers who are sitting on the sidelines, waiting for me to get tired enough to ask for help.
For the moment, I try to remember to gracefully accept help when it is offered (though I am still not the best at this) and try to remember not to resist too much when the offer of comfort is extended.
And I have to say yet again that i'm incredibly lucky to have Misha in my life right now. What better friend could a girl ask for than one who will cheerfully help you pack? [Hi, Misha, thanks, and I will *definitely* return the favor some day. Remind me to take you out to dinner. Sushi, on me.]
So my life is going into boxes and i'm getting ready for the move. Into a townhouse of my very own. I'm a homeowner. I don't pay rent, I pay a mortgage. I can paint the handrail in the stairwell green, if I so desire. I can paint the office purple!
But first...packing. And moving. I start Thursday, and the furniture (except one of the futons) gets moved on Saturday.
Wagons Ho!
