Later that evening, Jen and I went to Point Pleasant Beach. I grew up with some strong nautical family ties to the ocean. I grew up with the beach at my doorstep. When I lost my hearing in February of 2007, I was still hoping that my hearing was going to come back any day. I realized that it wasn’t after I went on a vacation with a couple friends to Myrtle Beach a few weeks after my nose job. We were only about a block away from the ocean and all of us went down to go for a run on the beach. After spending twelve hours in the back seat of a car barely being unable to communicate with anyone in the front seat, I was looking forward to being on familiar grounds. After climbing a very large sand dune, I saw the great Atlantic Ocean and then I lost sensation in my knees. The warmth of sun was there, the sand diffused underneath my feet and the distinct smell of the salty air permeating my nose just like old times but there was something missing. The ocean ambiance was –
dead . I couldn’t hear the waves crashing five feet way from me. The seagulls soared right over top of me and I couldn’t hear them utter a sound. The passersby on their morning stroll stopping to wish us well. I was living a silent movie. The wind kept blowing several strands of hair in my face and I thought with my hearing aids, all I would have heard is the wind whipping around. I just pulled my sunglasses over my eyes and cried while I was running. I decided the second I got back that I was going to make an appointment for a cochlear implant evaluation. I tried to make the best of my vacation by trying to find my hearing in the bottom of a bottle.
Jen and I were on a mission because neither one of us had heard the ocean since our cochlear implants have been activated. I thought it would be a great experience since she is a few hundred miles away from the seashore. I have been hesitant on going to the ocean because part of me thought I might have disappointed in the way it sounded. I couldn’t think of a better person then Jennifer to share this listening experience with. If it were anyone else, I would be willing to bet I would have heard nothing but nagging but this was our moment.
But there we stood, side by side with the full moon illuminating the night sky with the eastern seaboard 10 feet away from us. We tossed our sandals and let our toes sink into the wet sand and we listened. We listened to the seagulls cussing the ocean wind with their calls, the rising roar of the ascending tide and the crashing of the waves, the trickle of water being pulled back into the sea and the gentle drone of foghorns in the midst of the ocean. We stood there just listening to the ocean ambiance discovering how it sounds all over again. It used to sound so harsh with the wind swirling and waves crashing wearing hearing aids, but I realized that a majority of my infatuation with the sea were visual. After 28 years and one cochlear implant, I finally heard the
rhythm of the ocean.
The next day, I wanted to take Jen by my job because when I go out on break, I walk passed these trees and I keep hearing this high-pitched sound that mask everything else out. It is driving me bonkers! I keep asking my hearing friend keeps telling me that it is bugs or tree frogs. Somehow, I am not satisfied with that answer. I wanted to see if Jen could pick the sound up with her cochlear implant. They weren't chatty this weekend. Jen even tried to coerce them to talk but wouldn’t you know the darn frogs were off for the weekend?
After Jen shooting me some strange looks, I pouted because I want my audiologist to map out these friggen frogs. Anyway, I thought we would continue with the nautical theme. I decided to take Jen to the Barnegat Lighthouse whom my great uncle was the lighthouse keeper in 1915 to 1926.
I have been up and down this lighthouse several times, but I felt as they added more steps. I was tuckered out by the time I climbed back down. I had no idea how my great uncle climbed seven gallons of oil up and down those steps every single day. God bless that man.
Then we headed down towards the jetty rocks and admired the boats rocking in the water. We hit up a Sonic restaurant and I got this Route 44 Diet Cherry Limeade and that was very delish. We were so exhausted by the end of the day that coffee didn’t do a darn thing for us.
We just came back home and slapped our laptops on our thighs and typed away until we passed out.
The next morning, it was time for Jen to go back to Tennessee. I didn’t want her to go because we were having so much fun together. I purposely had thought of getting lost so she could miss her flight, but I opted for driving extra slow. I miss her already! But, I wouldn’t trade in the experience of being with her who is someone that can understand where I am coming from in all aspects is unbelievably refreshing. She is a special lady that always has a place in my heart.
Jen and I were on a mission because neither one of us had heard the ocean since our cochlear implants have been activated. I thought it would be a great experience since she is a few hundred miles away from the seashore. I have been hesitant on going to the ocean because part of me thought I might have disappointed in the way it sounded. I couldn’t think of a better person then Jennifer to share this listening experience with. If it were anyone else, I would be willing to bet I would have heard nothing but nagging but this was our moment.
But there we stood, side by side with the full moon illuminating the night sky with the eastern seaboard 10 feet away from us. We tossed our sandals and let our toes sink into the wet sand and we listened. We listened to the seagulls cussing the ocean wind with their calls, the rising roar of the ascending tide and the crashing of the waves, the trickle of water being pulled back into the sea and the gentle drone of foghorns in the midst of the ocean. We stood there just listening to the ocean ambiance discovering how it sounds all over again. It used to sound so harsh with the wind swirling and waves crashing wearing hearing aids, but I realized that a majority of my infatuation with the sea were visual. After 28 years and one cochlear implant, I finally heard the rhythm of the ocean.
The next day, I wanted to take Jen by my job because when I go out on break, I walk passed these trees and I keep hearing this high-pitched sound that mask everything else out. It is driving me bonkers! I keep asking my hearing friend keeps telling me that it is bugs or tree frogs. Somehow, I am not satisfied with that answer. I wanted to see if Jen could pick the sound up with her cochlear implant. They weren't chatty this weekend. Jen even tried to coerce them to talk but wouldn’t you know the darn frogs were off for the weekend?
After Jen shooting me some strange looks, I pouted because I want my audiologist to map out these friggen frogs. Anyway, I thought we would continue with the nautical theme. I decided to take Jen to the Barnegat Lighthouse whom my great uncle was the lighthouse keeper in 1915 to 1926.
I have been up and down this lighthouse several times, but I felt as they added more steps. I was tuckered out by the time I climbed back down. I had no idea how my great uncle climbed seven gallons of oil up and down those steps every single day. God bless that man.
Then we headed down towards the jetty rocks and admired the boats rocking in the water. We hit up a Sonic restaurant and I got this Route 44 Diet Cherry Limeade and that was very delish. We were so exhausted by the end of the day that coffee didn’t do a darn thing for us.
We just came back home and slapped our laptops on our thighs and typed away until we passed out.
The next morning, it was time for Jen to go back to Tennessee. I didn’t want her to go because we were having so much fun together. I purposely had thought of getting lost so she could miss her flight, but I opted for driving extra slow. I miss her already! But, I wouldn’t trade in the experience of being with her who is someone that can understand where I am coming from in all aspects is unbelievably refreshing. She is a special lady that always has a place in my heart.