Personal Stories

NEW!! The following is the most updated story contributed by Karen MacIver-Lux (Part II - Unplugged: Listening in Colour, Spring 2010)

Part II - Unplugged: Listening in Colour, Spring 2010

The following chapters are included
Opening the Door to a New World of Sound
The Cochlear Implant Surgery
Recovery from CI Surgery: Benefits to a Five-Day Stay
Activation of the Cochlear Implant
My First Therapy Session with the Cochlear Implant
Learning to Listen. Again.
Listening Walks
Listening in Colour


The following two stories are contributed by Karen MacIver-Lux (Part I - A New World of Sound: My Story Unplugged) and Kathryn Wilson (Consulting and Teaching in Europe).

Part I - A New World of Sound: My Story Unplugged by Karen MacIver-Lux

The following chapters are included
The Early Years
The Cochlear Implant: Everybody Wants It Right?
Soldiers Who Encouraged Me
The Battle To Get A Cochlear Implant
Finding My Way
It Takes A Village


Consulting and Teaching in Europe, by Kathryn Wilson
stories.html The following article is included
Consulting and Teaching in Europe

Unplugged: Listening in Colour, K. MacIver-Lux

Part 2 - Unplugged: Listening in Colour
by Karen MacIver-Lux

There is no such thing as an empty space or an empty time. There is always something to see, something to hear. In fact, try as we may to make a silence, we cannot. -John Cage

Opening the Door to a New World of Sound

On the evening of November 23, 2009, I bade an emotional farewell to my left hearing aid in a hospital room at the University of Freiburg Hospital in Freiburg (Universitat Klinikum Freiburg), Germany. For the first time in 34 years, I would not be wearing two hearing aids at the start of the next day. It looked lonely as I put it in its protective case and packed it away, and I pushed my mixed feelings of guilt and sadness aside. Early next morning, I would be entering a new time of my life, and my surgeon, Prof. Dr. Antje Aschendorff would be leading me to the door of a new world of sound, and would give me the key to unlock it.


(Image: Karen and Dr. Aschendorff)

The Cochlear Implant Surgery


(Image: Karen and Dr. Aschendorff on the day of surgery)

One of the greater fears I had about getting a cochlear implant (CI), was the surgery and recovery process. As with anything in life, there is no guarantee that everything will go smoothly and without complications, but I had complete confidence in Prof. Dr. Aschendorff and her team. I was surprised to learn the day before the surgery, that I was to be admitted to the hospital for five days and not the one or two days that is routinely scheduled for most patients in Canada and the United States. At the University of Freiburg Hospital, it is recommended to keep patients for five days to ensure that their CI patients recover as expected. I was looking forward to a “relaxing holiday” overlooking the old city of Freiburg and the neighboring mountains of Switzerland.

On the morning of the surgery, Prof. Dr. Aschendorff came by my room. Her warmth, excitement and confidence brought me (and Martin!) a lot of comfort and reassurance. Shortly afterwards, the nurses came to take me to the operating room. Martin walked alongside me and at the door of the operating suite, he gave me a hug and a kiss and wished me a good nap.

I was allowed to wear my right hearing aid, which I appreciated because I had to answer a lot of questions when I was in the surgical preparation room. Despite being in a hospital in Germany, most of the staff could speak English. Everyone was efficient and it almost looked like a well-rehearsed dance. A warm hospital towel was placed on me, and I was hooked up to monitors. The surroundings were clean, modern with bright slate blue tiles, white cabinetry and surgical equipment, and brushed steel sliding doors. It was easy for me to convince myself that I was in a spa instead of a hospital. The anesthesiologist arrived, went over all the signed consent forms, reviewed details of the drugs that would be administered, and asked me if I had any further questions. I did not. Satisfied, he gave the nurse my chart and he placed the mask over my face.

Oh, I did have one more question. He nodded his head, and leaned forward expectantly.

“How long will it take for me to get to sleep?”

I was asleep before he could answer.

Recovery from CI Surgery: Benefits to a Five-Day Stay

The surgery was an experience that only Prof. Dr. Aschendorff and members of her surgical team recall, and they report that everything went perfectly well. There were no surprises except for one incidence in the recovery room. I reportedly woke up and spoke in German.

I remember vividly waking up, seeing Martin and reaching up to feel the bandage on my head. Bandage on the left side? Check. Can I feel my left and right cheeks? Check. Can I taste the inside and outside of my mouth? Check. Ensure there is no metallic taste? Check. Can I squeeze my eyes shut, raise my eyebrows, and lick my lips? Check. Hey! I can hear some gurgling in my left ear. Oh, okay this is a surprise. I made a note to check my unaided hearing at a later date.



I asked Martin if the surgery went well, and he replied, “Dr. Aschendorff says everything went great!” and gave me the thumbs up sign. I could hear him well enough. Oh good. My right hearing aid is still there! Check. Exhausted and relieved that all was well, I fell asleep again and the next time I woke up, I was back in my hospital room.

Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak; courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen. -Winston Churchill


(Image: Dr. Rainer Beck, Karen, and Isabel Volkhardt)

Activation of the Cochlear Implant

As an audiologist and LSLS Cert. AVT I have good knowledge of the various scenarios that could unfold during activation of cochlear implants. I have seen countless activation (MAPping) sessions and have provided families with guidance through the process. I pretty much knew what I could expect. However, I can’t say this knowledge brought me any comfort or confidence before, during or after my activation. All I could think of was the worst-case scenarios: What will happen if I can’t provide reliable responses? What will happen if I feel facial stimulation when the implant is on? The more I thought about the possibilities, the more crazy and unrealistic the scenarios became What if that ultrasound I got in Berlin to investigate the cause of my chronic sinus infection actually destroyed the electrodes? What if all those spicy curry wurst sausages somehow destroyed my auditory nerve? I had split into two personas: the “patient” and the “professional.” The “professional” just took off to have a vacation without any notice. What was left was the scared, helpless, and irrational patient, sitting in the chair, with tears of nervousness running down her face.

It helped to have Warren there for the activation with a comforting smile of confidence. I had also invited Prof. Dr. Aschendorff to the activation, and she was busy chatting with Emily and keeping an eye on me. Martin was behind the camera, documenting the whole experience. Otmar, my CI technician was ready to start the activation process, and I nodded and took a big breath. It was time for me to open the door and walk into a new world of sound.


The Turn On: Plugged In
MAPping is a term that is used when the implant is programmed to each cochlear implant recipient in order to provide access to sound. In the beginning stages of cochlear implant use, the cochlear implant recipient requires frequent MAPping sessions. However, over time the MAP stabilizes. With each subsequent MAP, increased listening time, and acclimatization of the auditory centers of the brain to the electrical signal that the implant provides, the cochlear implant recipient eventually adjusts to hearing with the implant.

After my cochlear implant was programmed (MAPped), the implant was turned on. Warren spoke, but he sounded like a monotone and higher pitched Darth Vader. I could not understand what he was saying, and the world sounded very quiet. Otmar spoke and he sounded just like Warren. When Martin spoke, he sounded just like Warren. Robotic, monotone, and flat sounding Darth Vader, again. Words cannot describe the mixed feelings that followed. On one hand, I was relieved that the implant was working and on the other hand, I was very disappointed. As much as I tried to tell myself to not have high expectations, I think deep down inside I hoped that I would be able to understand some speech without lip reading. The “patient” in me had some wildly unrealistic expectations.

Adding further to my disappointment, I could not hear Emily calling my name from across the room, nor could I hear any of the environmental sounds in or outside the office. I quickly went from feeling disappointed to feeling depressed.


I heard Warren ask me a question and I responded. This was an automatic, fly by the seat of my pants response based on my knowledge of the pattern and rhythm (suprasegmentals) of spoken language. Warren was thrilled. I wasn’t so reassured. That must have been a fluke. The point to me was that speech didn’t sound so clear. I could not hear soft environmental sounds. And that wasn’t good enough.


Otmar counseled me, and I suppose his words went “in one ear and out the other”. At that point, I wasn’t in an emotional state to hear what he was saying. I heard it all before, but I just couldn’t find it in myself to forgive my brain for having a hard time with the implant signal.
I tried hard to bolster my courage, but all I could think of was when I could take the implant off. I hated it. I did not get any added benefit out of it compared to my hearing aids. I couldn’t even hear an “s.” I was getting increasingly worried that I wouldn’t persist in wearing the implant long enough to get used to it.


I felt like a sulky little princess who didn’t get her way. I had to shake my head and get on with it even though I didn’t want to. Everyone else looked cool. Actually, they looked thrilled with how I was doing. I should have been happy too, but the “patient” in me was angry and upset.
And where was the “professional” in me? Probably, off on the beach in Bora Bora, enjoying a margarita.

Learn to listen. Opportunity could be knocking at your door very softly. -Frank Tygar



(Image: CI surgeon and therapist celebrate a successful day - Karen's activation of therapy with the cochlear implant)

My First Therapy Session with the Cochlear Implant

I was filled with trepidation about having a therapy session so soon after activation of my cochlear implant. Being a people pleaser, my main concern was that I would disappoint Warren, Prof. Dr. Aschendorff, and the rest of the Cochlear Implant team in Freiburg. They had worked so hard for me, and I really wanted them to see the benefit of their excellent care. I was also worried that I would disappoint those in my professional community. Most of all, I was worried that I would let my family down. Despite my own disappointment, I could live with not being able to do well in a therapy session. After all, in my mind, I had already done “poorly” in the room where I was activated.


Warren started out the session with questions and “set to listen” tasks within the framework of a conversation. Eventually, the session consisted mostly of conversation in the open set. Warren’s speech sounded robotic, boomingly loud, and monotone. Certain sounds in words sounded muffled, and at times, syllables of words would melt into one another. In general, this speech had a “reverberating” quality to it. It was almost if I were listening to robotic speech in an enclosed space. I found the monotonous and robotic drone of speech distracting, and this distraction would drain most of the energy I needed to expend processing what I heard. At the beginning of the session, I estimate that I was able to understand about 20% of what I heard upon first presentation. Occasionally, I understood a phrase or question correctly after one presentation. As the session progressed, I found that the quality of speech improved and became easier to understand. It was incredible to hear the gradual transformation of speech from unclear to faintly clear.


As the session progressed, my initial disappointment with the cochlear implant melted away. I became increasingly impressed with my performance. Although speech didn’t sound as clear as I expected it to, and I had to work hard to concentrate, focus, and understand what I was hearing, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. I heard the difference that increased listening time and practice could make just in one hour. My brain worked hard for me, and I felt obligated to give my best effort back. I was determined to make the most of the listening opportunities that the CI offered, no matter how soft or muffled. I owed it to myself, and my family, and the CI team to give it my very best shot.


Some techniques and strategies that I found most helpful during the process of learning to listen with a cochlear implant are as follows:


1. Waiting for me to process the information was the single most important strategy Warren used. Speech sounded overwhelming loud and muffled, and I needed the time to process what I heard. When Warren waited, I had the opportunity to replay what I heard in my mind, and to try and tease out what I heard. It was the best technique and brought success.


2. Use of conversational level of speech was very important. If Warren raised his voice, his speech sounded more degraded. At times, I asked Warren to move further away from me. When he leaned close, it made it more difficult for me to understand him. It was important to experiment with distance to find out what worked best.


3. Rate of speech had to be just right. Not too slow, nor too fast. Warren used a typical rate of speech instead of a slower rate. If Warren used a natural rate, this helped me to sort out the suprasegmental patterns.


4. Using the” three strikes and you’re out” rule helps take the pressure off the listener. When I could not “get it” by the third repetition, Warren, Warren tried another strategy through listening, instead of going immediately to vision. For example, if I didn’t get the question or statement by the third try, he would either spell some key words. If I couldn’t identify the letter, Warren recited the alphabet until he got to the target letter.


5. Once I got the stimulus correct, I asked Warren to repeat the stimulus several times using varying rates of speech. This practice helped me to create a new “audio-print” for that particular phrase and variations of it, with the hope that I would have an easier time understanding the phrase when it’s presented again.


6. If I needed visual information to help me understand , Warren placed the stimulus” back into listening”. And sometimes, I asked him him to repeat it over and over again.


7. Easy listening closed set tasks served as welcome breaks during the session. Warren gave some easy listening tasks (breaks) to give me success and bolster my confidence.



(Image: Sharing a quiet moment after the therapy session)

Lie down and let the crabgrass grow, the faucet leak, and learn to love them so.
-Marya Mannes

Learning to Listen. Again.

Leaving the quiet therapy room to venture into the noisy world was like being awakened rudely from a deep slumber. The noise was so incredibly loud. Although it was quiet outside, the world sounded like a hundred timpani drums blasting simultaneously and loudly in my head. In addition, there was a constant loud clicking sound that was very similar to that ofa wood block when struck. The shock and intensity of the noises, along with the loud robotic monotone-like speech took my breath away and I found it almost unbearable. I was instructed by Otmar to adjust the sensitivity and the volume whenever I found listening with the implant overwhelming. I tried hard to keep the settings as they were and put up with the barrage of sounds, but after about 10 minutes, I had to reduce the sensitivity and volume levels on the remote control. There was instant relief, and the sounds of the world were easier to bear, but still louder than I was used to.


On my first day of listening, I could not hear every sound. I couldn’t hear the crunching of the gravel when I walked. However, other sounds were more acoustically salient, like the water running from a tap. For the most part, it seemed like I was hearing robotic voices, timpani/kettledrums, clicks and whistles, no matter where I was. The only sound that sounded as I heard with the hearing aid, but on a much louder scale, was the clinking noise of a utensil hitting the plate across the room. Fascinated by the fact that I could hear these higher pitch sounds and voices at such a far distance, I could not help staring at other diners as they ate their food.


Throughout my first week of activation, there was daily CI programming/MAPping. There was, however, a break for a day in programming after the third MAPping session. During this break, another CI technician responsible for my care, Juergen, went over the accessories that came with the speech processor and explained how to use them.
On the fifth day, there was a final MAPping session with Juergen. Each new MAP was created based on my brain’s improved responses to the stimulation the cochlear implant provided, and as a result, I gained increased functional auditory access to speech and environmental sounds.


Every day, following my appointment with the CI technicians, I had a therapy session with Warren. Throughout the day, I made sure I kept busy with activities. Warren, Martin and Emily and I went on many listening walks throughout the city of Freiburg.


One piece of advice that I did not follow was to give myself listening breaks. Everyone kept telling me not to “overdo” it, but I did not want to be tempted to take the CI off. If I was overwhelmed, I either adjusted the settings of the speech processor, or I controlled my listening environment. I was afraid that if I took my implant off, I would miss out some critical listening time and stimulation that my brain needed to adjust to the new signal. The only luxury I allowed myself was continued use of my hearing aid in the opposite ear.


It is beyond the scope of this story to go into every detail about the changes that occurred over time, but the details will be provided in the documentary film that is in development and will be available next year. Following, however, are a few examples of environmental and speech sounds that I experienced as a gradual transformation as I learned to listen with my cochlear implant.


- Pool Room and Waterfall Feature
During the few days of cochlear implant use, the indoor pool area at the hotel in Freiburg sounded like a combination of loud kettle drums and repetitive clicking sounds. It was a raised eternity style pool with water rushing over its edge. Every time I entered the pool area, I would cringe at how loud it was. For the first twenty minutes, I would just grit my teeth and bear the noise. But the longer I stayed in the area, the more bearable the sounds became. By the end of the week, I realized that the clicking sound had evolved into the constant trickle of the water. The kettle drums evolved into the constant hum of the dehumidifier.


- Water Faucet
Interestingly, a running water faucet always sounded crisp and clear to me, even on the first day of activation.


- Car Engine
Whenever cars drove by, I heard timpani/kettle drums beat. This has been one of the slower environmental sounds to evolve. It took me about a month of listening with the CI before the car engine began to sound like a car engine.


- Voices
Shortly after activation, all voices sounded monotone and robotic. Men sounded like a higher pitched Darth Vader. Women sounded like a monotone Barbie. Children sounded like a monotone and even higher-pitched version of Barbie. Men’s voices were easiest to understand, and were the first to evolve so that by the end of my first month of listening, I could recognize the voices of the male speakers. At the end of the first three months of listening, women’s voices evolved so that they sounded fairly natural. After four months of listening, children voices evolved so that they sounded natural. I think that I still have a way to go with voices, but with each passing week, voices undergo tiny changes that add to the naturalness of speech.


- Clocks
I have always heard clocks ticking with my hearing aids. But I always had to make sure I stopped what I was doing, and pay close attention. With the CI, I not only could recognize the ticking of the clock right away, but was alarmed at how loud the clock really is. I can’t miss hearing it, and I had to work hard to learn how to “tune it out”.


- Soda Pop
I always knew that when someone poured soda pop into a glass, it made a fizzing sound. But again, I had to listen closely with my hearing aids. With the CI, I don’t miss that sound. It’s easy to hear and thankfully, easy to “tune out.”


- Dog Tags
A sound I haven’t quite gotten used to hearing, yet, is the sound of the ID tags that my dog, Rosie, wears. I can now hear her moving throughout the house. I’m not sure what tags are supposed to sound like but at the moment they jingle with an occasional whistle, and I can hear them when Rosie is about 15 feet away from me. It’s been four months post-activation of the cochlear implant, and the jingling and whistling is not showing any sign of softening.


Therapy Continues

In Canada, most children who receive cochlear implants receive some form of auditory- based intervention post-activation of cochlear implants. For adult users of cochlear implants, however, auditory skills training programs are few and far between. Many adults with cochlear implants must learn to listen again on their own or through computerized “listening” programs that can be found on the Internet.


I made a commitment to myself, however, that I would take advantage of the resources I had. Warren was there to provide therapy during the first week that my cochlear implant was activated and I found the therapy sessions during this time to be of extraordinary benefit. I often came to these sessions, frustrated and unsure if I had made any progress in developing listening skills. But as Warren would put me through my paces, I realized quickly that I did make gains. Many times I would leave these sessions with a lighter heart, feeling encouraged and motivated to continue wearing my implant during difficult listening situations. For the remaining time that I was in Germany, I received therapy from Steffi Kroeger, a therapist at the Cochlear Implant Program in Freiburg. We explored different resources that I could use on the Internet and for telephone training. She also provided valuable diagnostic information to Juergen, which assisted him in creating a program/MAP that I could use until my next scheduled MAPping session.


Once I returned to Canada, I resumed my therapy sessions with Warren. I knew that it would be difficult for me to track my progress in developing listening skills in the real world with all the demands that daily life would place on me. Therapy sessions would help me to see what my maximum listening capabilities were (at the time of the session), and in partnership with Warren, a home program could be developed with the goal of helping me to make optimal use of my cochlear implant.


It was important for Martin and my mother to (and my other family members) attend these sessions. They needed to see what I was able to do with the implant, and to be counseled on why I was not able to hear or understand speech during certain situations. For example, during the first week of activation, I was not able to hear Martin call me if we were in a busy and noisy store. I even had difficult hearing him at a distance in a quiet listening environment. Warren explained to Martin that it is very difficult to respond to voices in the beginning stages of cochlear implant use. Listening in noise was a higher level listening skill, and one that would be developed with increased listening time and practice. He then gave him suggestions as to what to do during those instances, and how he could help me to hear better during these challenging listening situations.


I feel very fortunate to have been able to access an auditory skills training with my cochlear implant. I believe that the therapy I received is one of the key reasons to my continued success with the cochlear implant.



(Image: The Dream Team: Dr. Hassepass, Warren, Emily, Karen, Steffi Kroeger, and Otmar Gerberaren and Dr. Aschendorff)

A few days ago I walked along the edge of the lake and was treated to the crunch and rustle of leaves with each step I made. The acoustics of this season are different and all sounds, no matter how hushed, are as crisp as the autumn air. -Eric Sloane

Listening Walks

Warren recommended that I take frequent ” listening walks” with my family. While I stayed with family in Berlin, Germany, I went on these walks with my sister- in-law, Heike. Infinitely patient, she would identify every sound that I heard so that I could create new audio-prints. It was a challenge going on these walks. I could recognize the crunching of the snow beneath my boots but I would mistake the faraway sound of a subway train for the bark of a dog. It helped to have a sense of humour so that I could laugh at my mistakes, and let go of some of my unrealistic expectations.


Four months after the activation of my CI, I went on a listening walk with my family on a nature trail behind my brother’s house, in King City, Canada. There was the high pitch whine and clicking sounds of the nature coming back to life in the swampy pond. The rustling of the old leaves and the crackling of the twigs and branches as I treaded through the forest, was now clear, crisp and easy to hear. Today, the songs of birds are louder than I ever remember and there are a few extra notes to their songs that I’ve never heard before. The marvelous transformation of the sounds of nature will continue, and I’m grateful to feel closer to nature than ever before.

Listening in Colour

The world has changed its songs. Voices are heard more clearly than ever before. Listening in noise is much easier. I still have a journey in in learning to listen with confidence and ease. Even though every day brings a new challenge and a new accomplishment, these add new shades of colour to the way I view the world. Words can not express my gratitude for the gift of this hearing technology, and the chance to learn to listen again. My experience of everything the world has to offer has been richer since receiving the implant and I am now listening in colour.

A New World of Sound, K. MacIver-Lux

Part 1 - A New World of Sound: My Story Unplugged
by Karen MacIver-Lux

The Early Years

One of my earliest childhood memories was lying on the floor underneath my mother’s piano, watching her foot move up and down on the pedal and listening to her play Moonlight Sonata. Our family dog, a Dachshund named Sausee, had her warm body pressed against my back, with her head supporting mine. Even though my head lay on my arm, I had to constantly adjust the angle of it to keep one of my hearing aids from whistling. Sausee’s head provided additional support, so that I could hear the music instead of the whistling. Whenever my mother switched to another song, I grabbed her foot and cried “No, no!”, until she returned to Moonlight Sonata. It was one of the few pieces of music that my “broken ears” could send straight to my heart. It wasn’t until I was much older, that I discovered that the composer of Moonlight Sonata and I shared similar struggles to hear, and that he composed masterpieces so powerful to overcome the barriers of hearing loss


(Image: Karen as a child)


In We Learned to Listen (Estabrooks, 2005), I documented even earlier memories of living in a grey world of silence and how hearing aids opened the door to a more colourful world of sound. From an early age, I realized that there is a never ending quest for humans to duplicate our sensory experiences. Humans have been able to make astoundingly close replicas of sensory experiences through a variety of technological advances such as “surround sound” and IMAX films. The same can be said for hearing aid technology, but I was always frustrated with how far behind it seemed in relation to other technologies. However, behind-the-ear hearing aids became more “powerful” and I was able to unlock another door to more vibrant sound. In hearing aid technology, digital sound (and it wasn’t even truly “digital”) has only been available since 1996, and the quest to help the disordered ear experience sound in the way that “typically hearing” ears do, is ongoing. We still have a long way to go.

The Cochlear Implant: Everybody Wants It, Right?

Ever since I was diagnosed with a hearing loss, and during the time I was living at home, my parents made it their priority for me to have the latest hearing technology. And my mother made sure that she did everything she could, to help me become a listening and speaking member of the community. When I became an audiologist, my parents deferred the responsibility to me. Or rather, they trusted me to do the research and make the decision to get the “latest” and the “newest” as soon as it became available. And of course, I was happy to take charge of my own hearing and hearing health care, and thought I was doing the best for myself. The saying “the doctor is the worst patient”, however, couldn’t be more accurate. It’s just not that easy to “walk the talk” when the consumer becomes the professional.

During my second year as an “Audiology” graduate student, I had the privilege of completing a practicum in pediatric audiology with Dr. Carol Flexer. I observed a master and learned a great deal. She demonstrated her diagnostic prowess in assessing hearing in infants and very young children. From time to time, we worked with a family whose child would have a confirmed severe to profound hearing loss, and Dr. Flexer would make the recommendation to the family to begin investigating the child’s candidacy for a cochlear implant. Some families received such recommendations with quiet acceptance, and would leave the clinic looking as if they had a new mission to complete. Other families, however, reacted with despair, and some even told Dr. Flexer that they wanted no such technology for their child. Of course, we would hold their hands through this difficult phase and would say the right things. But deep inside, I felt angry. Why would the parents even think of refusing such a “wonderful hearing opportunity” for their child? How could they...if it meant keeping their child in a grey world of silence? Even though I struggled initially with such feelings, I swept them under the carpet and kept them hidden from everyone. After all, as an audiologist, I had to be the professional.

During my first year as a clinical audiologist in Toronto, I paid a visit to a cochlear implant program to learn more about cochlear implants. The CI audiologist took me on a tour of the Center, and we were just about to settle into the topic of programming cochlear implants, when she turned to me and asked, “Karen, have you ever thought about getting a cochlear implant yourself?” I found myself pushing my chair back, and was surprised to feel that my initial reaction was one of disbelief and quick denial. Getting a CI would mean that I “failed” with hearing aids, and I did not want to admit to the possibility that I could be hearing better with a cochlear implant. I realized at that moment, that this is what the parents “in denial” might have been feeling too. The CI audiologist smiled in understanding, as I took my time to gather my thoughts together, and frame my response. I told her that I had never considered such an option. At that moment, I had a better understanding of what parents might be going through with their own child and promised myself that I would learn all I could to provide more support for these families, no matter what decision they made for their child. .

Soldiers Who Encouraged Me

As an audiologist and an auditory-verbal therapist, I have the pleasure of working with and training some hard core soldiers. The soldiers are the children on my caseload, who have their parents behind them as the generals. And I was there to train the soldiers for battle. Or rather, help the children learn to listen and use spoken communication with their hearing technology.

Having been a soldier myself, I’m intimately aware of the challenges hearing loss poses throughout life in general, and what needs to be done in order to overcome them. The challenges are the battles that only we (individuals with hearing loss) can fight. The temptation for the generals (parents) and trainers (professionals) to step in and fight the soldiers’ (children with hearing loss) battles can be pretty strong, but the lessons are learned better when the deed is done on “our own” and we are allowed to learn from our failures as well as our successes.

A born fighter, I don’t like to admit failure. But seeing the children on my caseload, who have similar listening challenges with hearing aids and have, overcome those challenges with their cochlear implants and therapy is undeniably inspiring. Parents are amazed when they see their children become better listeners than their therapist! Seeing the children with cochlear implants fly, makes me feel proud and envious at the same time. Every child with hearing loss that I have had the pleasure of knowing or meeting has played a special role in helping me take a closer step to making the decision to get a cochlear implant. Their parents have been so patient and understanding...always encouraging but never pushy. I think they too, understood the conflicting emotions I had to sort out, before making that final decision to get a cochlear implant. Or rather, the steps that a soldier needs to take, to become a better soldier.

The Battle to Get a Cochlear Implant

Nine years ago, I decided to undergo audiologic assessments at a local CI Center to investigate whether or not I would be a candidate for a cochlear implant. Based on my unaided speech discrimination scores, I did not meet the criteria for cochlear implant candidacy. I suppose I should have felt happy that I did “too well” to get a cochlear implant, but I felt frustrated instead. For the first time in my life, I was denied the opportunity to benefit from hearing technology that I knew would help me hear better. It wasn’t money or lack of knowledge denying me the opportunity to hear better, it was a set of criteria and a group of professionals who were telling me that I should be happy that I do so well.

What the criteria and cochlear implant team did not understand at the time, was that it took me years of auditory-verbal therapy (with my late diagnosis and poor hearing aid technology that was available at the time) to get me to the level of auditory functioning I had. And even at that, I was exhausted at the end of the day. My explanations and pleadings for reconsideration of cochlear implant candidacy fell on “deaf” ears. During the last moments of that interview with the audiologist and ENT, I had to remind myself, that the criteria was put in place for a reason, and that there were many other individuals who needed the cochlear implant more than I did. I struggled to keep the tears of frustration from erupting.

The tears did fall, however, when my husband, Martin, and I were in the lobby of the hospital. Martin was confused, as he thought I’d be happy about the fact that I didn’t need a cochlear implant. But when he realized the implications of the team’s decision and what it would mean for me in terms of auditory functioning, he quickly offered his shoulder to cry on. I finally walked out of the hospital, bolstered by my Martin’s promise that he would provide whatever support he could, to help me get this cochlear implant.

Two months later, I visited another CI Center, outside of Canada. I was determined. Again, based on my unaided and aided (with both hearing aids) speech discrimination scores, I was not deemed a candidate for the cochlear implant. At this time, I was too tired to argue my case, so Martin and I flew home.

When I returned home, I looked over the results of my audiologic assessments and used my knowledge as an audiologist to build a case to have myself re-assessed under different listening conditions. By the time I called the head CI audiologist at the Center abroad, I presented the following arguments:

1. Unaided speech discrimination is not really “unaided”. The level of speech presented is loud enough so that I would be able to use my excellent residual hearing in the low frequency regions. Marks were given for correct vowel content, which don’t really contribute entirely to overall speech understanding.

2. Unaided speech discrimination testing was done using live voice. Live voice is easier to hear than CD presentations.

3. Aided speech discrimination testing was done in the bilateral condition (with both hearing aids on). I argued that it is quite possible that one ear is doing most of the work, and that I might have one ear that would meet the criteria for cochlear implant candidacy. I asked them for the opportunity to have each ear assessed in the aided condition, individually.

4. My speech discrimination abilities were assessed in an environment that is not typical of the “real world”. In the sound booth, it is very quiet, and my auditory attention is good depending on the time of day. When I’m out in the real world, there is a lot of background noise and I’m not always “ready and set” to pay auditory attention despite my best efforts.

5. No matter how hard I try, it is difficult for me to a) detect high frequency speech sounds, even at a close distance to the speaker. It is almost impossible for me to distinguish between ”s”, ”f”, “th” sounds without lip reading. The cochlear implant would help me with this.

The head CI audiologist invited me to return to the clinic for further testing. Sure enough, I qualified for cochlear implant candidacy in my right ear. The CI audiologist asked me to take three months to think about my decision to get a cochlear implant carefully, as it would involve a lot of post cochlear implant rehabilitation and work on my part. Martin and I agreed, and flew home feeling elated.

As elated as we were, it was not yet my time, however, to receive a cochlear implant. Two months later, Martin and I discovered that we were expecting a baby to arrive eight months later.

The next six years were busy ones with my clinical work and with raising our daughter, Emily. When Emily was 13 months of age, I could see that she was not meeting the expected milestones in receptive and expressive language. My husband and I also had other concerns about Emily’s overall development. Our focus shifted to doing everything we could to help our daughter get the help she needed. No words can accurately describe the anxiety, pain, and concern we felt about Emily’s slow progress in developing receptive and expressive communication, and her future in general. Although as a professional, I was quite seasoned in knowing how to guide the families of children who have additional communication difficulties other than hearing loss, I felt lost, alone and confused when it came to “what to do” to help Emily.

I desperately needed someone to guide me and to give me an idea of what the future might hold. What I needed, was hope. We were fortunate to find a terrific speech-language pathologist, who understood Emily as well as I understood children with hearing loss. She set to work on guiding Martin and I in the process of helping Emily grow into the charming, creative and effective communicator she is today. It was a long and difficult journey, but I learned more than I ever wanted to know about receptive/expressive/pragmatic disorders, which would eventually help me to become a more sensitive and effective auditory-verbal therapist.

During the time when Martin and I were focused on Emily, I observed many auditory-verbal graduates and adults receive cochlear implants. While most of these teenagers and adults had great success with their cochlear implants, there were a few who didn’t. It was terrifying to watch these adults try and cope with the challenges that came their way, and I began to realize that getting a cochlear implant is not without some risks. And I wasn’t sure that I was ready to accept them.


(Image: Karen, Martin & Emily)

Finding My Way

If I thought listening was hard nine years ago, I had no idea that it would be as difficult as it is today. Over the last three years, I noticed my hearing in the left ear gradually changing. It’s almost as if someone took a brush, dipped it in gray paint, and swiped it across Mona Lisa’s smile. The image is still there, but it is slowly changing into something other than what it was intended to be. My “hearing image” is becoming more blurry and distorted with time. I hear, but the sounds I hear are not easily recognized or as well understood as they used to be. Hearing and understanding on the telephone is becoming more difficult. In addition, I have been experiencing tinnitus in my left ear daily, when it used to be once or twice a month.

Again, I have to credit my soldiers for redirecting my attention to the prize. In their own precious way, the children on my caseload brushed away my fears and restored me with hope. Hope that one day soon, I too, will have the chance to explore a more colourful world of sound.

Two years ago, my interest in pursuing the cochlear implant was renewed. The criteria for cochlear implant candidacy had changed over the past nine years. I was sure I would qualify this time, as my speech discrimination abilities had been deteriorating as well. I contacted a different CI Center outside Canada. In the midst of making the required appointments, I began experiencing serious health issues that required my immediate attention. Thus, I needed to put the idea of getting a cochlear implant on the back burner for a short while.

Once I recovered, I was ready to move on. It was important to me to find a surgeon with whom I could communicate with and ultimately trust. I wanted to find a surgeon who would:

1. understand the level of effort it takes for me to function as well as I do in the hearing world, and acknowledge the difficulties I have hearing and listening outside the sound booth,

2. pay attention to details such as the progression in my hearing levels over the past 15 years, and the otologic issues (e.g. external otitis and dizziness) that I’ve had to contend with and provide steps and recommendations to deal with those in addition to issues related to the CI,

3. patiently answer my questions no matter how difficult the answer might be. In other words, give me the whole truth, and not the half truth to “get me off his or her back”,

4. acknowledge that I have fears about the surgery itself, and listen to those fears and use humour to calm me down,

5. demonstrate confidence and excellence in his or her profession, and have a great track record,

6. value the key contribution that aural rehabilitation plays in my outcomes with the CI,

7. have a team of excellent professionals who will support me in the rehabilitative process,

8. listen to me, and demonstrate good eye contact and “bedside manner”,

9. despite his or her success and high standing in the CI field, be humble and realize that it takes a team of people working together in harmony to create the successful outcomes,

10. treat his or her team members with the utmost respect.

The decision to go with a certain CI surgeon is often influenced by many variables, some of which are personal. The right surgeon for me might not be the right surgeon for someone else. It is a highly personal choice. I know that many people in various parts of the world do not have a choice. I am fortunate that I had the opportunity to choose the CI surgeon and CI team that would be right for me.

During the CI 2009 Conference in Seattle Washington, I attended a party. Well, actually, I crashed it and luckily my presence was welcomed by the hosts. I found Warren Estabrooks chatting up a storm with his good friend, Professor Dr. Antje Aschendorff, who is a well known CI surgeon based in Freiburg, Germany. Warren had told me abouta Dr. Aschendorff on many occasions, and I was very keen to meet her. Following an introduction, Warren left us alone to talk and I had an opportunity to get to know her “outside” the doctor’s office. I was immediately impressed by her kindness and the fact that she gave me her full attention. In addition, I felt so comfortable sharing with her how difficult it is for me to hear in less than ideal listening situations (as she could see ), and my fears about the surgery in general.

I attended Professor Dr. Aschendorff’s presentations at the conference, I also checked out her credentials, and spoke to other surgeons who work closely with her. She was given high praise from all who had the opportunity to work with her, or know her. I was confident that I had found the right CI surgeon for me.

My good fortune continues with my almost daily contact with the Co-ordinator of the CI Team at the University Medical Center Freiburg, Frau Isabel Volkhardt. There have been many logistical challenges in arranging for cochlear implant surgery in Germany, and nothing has been too difficult for her to handle. She prepares me well with her humour and is very prompt when replying to my emails.

As a result of their attention to details concerning my physical and emotional wellbeing during the process of preparing for this special time in my life, I am looking forward to my upcoming surgery in November, 2009 and am confident that I will come home having gained a new family as well as a place in a new world of sound.

It Takes a Village

I don’t think anyone argues with Hillary Rodham Clinton when she says that it takes a village to raise a child. In my personal and professional opinion, it would be foolish of me to rush headlong into getting a CI without ensuring that I have a village of people to support me. I have that village and it consists of people from many parts of the world. I realize that I must have realistic expectations of what my cochlear implant will provide for me, and that the outcome is mostly dependent on me and the effort I expend during the post-CI activation phase.

My village is large and great. My family in Canada, the United States, and in Germany are all standing behind me. My parents support my decision to get a cochlear implant, and do all they can to ensure that I have the opportunity to do so. They both love me for who I am, whoever I will become, and give me all the emotional support I need as their daughter. My brothers and their families listen to the excitement and fears and to do what they can to support me on this new journey. My extended family members in Canada and the U.S. have also been a great source of support. I know I am in their prayers and thoughts, which brings me much comfort. Martin’s family (my second family) in Germany will be hosting and supporting us during my recovery from surgery, and cheering me on as I learn to listen again with the CI. Lastly, but not least, Martin and Emily will be my side at every step of the way. They will surely be the wind beneath my wings.

My friends all around the world have been quick to offer their support, have offered words of wisdom, snippets of humour to keep me positive, and finally, allowed me the pleasure of being a part of their lives.

The families and children with whom I have had/have the pleasure of knowing and working with are generous in their support and encouragement. There is no end to the inspiration they give me, and their example will help me to reach my highest listening potential with the cochlear implant.

The professionals whom I mentor, Michelle McGregor and Tania Samson will be taking care of the families I leave behind (for a short time!). Their passion in helping children with hearing loss reach their highest listening potential is inspiring.

My professional community stands supportive of me and its interest in my journey and words of encouragement sustain me. I know I have the world of hearing experts at my finger tips.

My therapist, colleague, mentor and friend, Warren Estabrooks is always helping me as he has for over 27 years. He will be beside Martin during my initial activation, providing support to us, including therapy to whip my new ear into shape. I am comforted by the fact that he will do everything he can to help me reach my highest listening potential with my cochlear implant.

I am very privileged to be one Dr. Antje Aschendorff’s CI patients. She will be giving me the key that will open the door to a new world of sound, and will provide continued support to make sure all goes well.

I am also privileged to be in the hands and care of the CI Team in Freiburg.

Other professionals from various CI Centers in Canada and the US have been incredibly helpful and supportive during my journey to getting a CI.

For many years I have been receiving top notch audiologic care from Dr. Susan Scollie and Ms. Danielle Glista at the National Center of Audiology, at the University of Western Ontario, in London, Canada. They have been incredibly patient with me, and have spent hours upon hours trying various hearing aids on me. They will continue to provide me with audiologic care for the other ear that will continue to require a hearing aid.

I am certain, that my success with the cochlear implant will be rooted in the solid hearing foundation provided by my village.

Part II of this journey into a New World of Sound, will be on this website in January, 2010.

Stay tuned!

Consulting and Teaching in Europe, K. Wilson

Consulting and Teaching in Europe
Kathryn Wilson, M.A., CCC-SLP, LSLS Cert. AVT

Little did I know that making the choice to become a speech-language pathologist more than 30 years ago would ultimately lead me to Copenhagen, Warsaw, and Istanbul.

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In early 2009, I traveled and worked with Warren Estabrooks (M.Ed., Dip. Ed. Deaf, LSLS Cert. AVT), President and CEO of WE Listen International, Inc. (http://welisteninternational.com/), a worldwide training consultant in auditory-verbal therapy and practice. I had never presented workshops and conferences outside North America before; but when first asked if I would be interested in a joint-training mission, I didn't hesitate with my "Yes!" I realized it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

As preparation of slides, handouts, and video clips got underway, I wondered how things might be different in these countries compared to what was so familiar to me here at home.

* All participants spoke English but not as their first language; yet they would be expected to participate in long days of training where English was the only language spoken. Would we understand each other and be able to engage in meaningful dialogue?
* Very few were to be speech-language pathologists or teachers of the deaf. Most were special educators, psychologists and even one person was a physician.
* Guiding parents and active parent participation in all aspects of the child’s habilitation was one of my presentation topics; however the concept of working with parents and caregivers vs. only the child was a novel idea to most professionals in these countries. Would there be “buy-in” to the information?
* And of course there would be cultural differences that could influence the ability to relate to each other.

I need not have worried. As I worked with the participants, I came to appreciate that we were all united by the common purpose of helping children we serve, regardless of where we live, the languages we speak, or our cultural beliefs and practices.

Each workshop lasted 2 days and included video analysis, group assignments, case studies, lectures, and problem solving. We began and ended our days with fabulous food, conversation, and laughter. I worked hard to understand a bit of the native languages and they worked hard to understand a gal with a strong Southern accent!

Training began in Copenhagen. In Denmark, I discovered that while bilateral cochlear implantation is now routine there, very few professionals at present have the expertise to work with this population. Next stop was Warsaw, where we conducted our training at the International Center for Speech and Hearing founded by implant surgeon Dr. Henryk Skarzyski (http://www.chopin.edu.pl/angielskie/osobowe/skarzynski.html). In addition to the Polish professionals who worked at the International Center, professionals from the Czech Republic and Hungary also participated.

The last stop on our training mission was Istanbul, Turkey, a city of 17 million people that sits on the Bosphorus Strait where Europe and Asia meet. Here I had ONE day to take in as much of the city as possible. On a Sunday morning I set out with a driver and an English- speaking guide to explore Istanbul. Several historic sites, including the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia in the Old City, plus a shopping trip to purchase a handmade Turkish rug or “carpet” highlighted my excursion. Perhaps the most remarkable part of the day was that I actually found my way back to the hotel!

Without question, this international experience was one of the highlights of my career. Next on the itinerary? I have submitted my passport for renewal and eagerly await the possibility of another training opportunity abroad!