I never thought that the day would come. The day where the world was imperceptible, the agitation I felt, and the pleasant feeling of receiving a second chance I thought I would never get back. Quiet. We all wish for silence at one point or another. In my opinion, the perception of silence is very misunderstood.
It was just another day at school, talking to my friends having fun and getting ready for class. All of a sudden my day went silent. I started to wonder “What is going on?” I went through my day in silence counting the minutes till school was over. I ran to my mom as she was picking me up from school. Happy to see her but unable to communicate. We use the only method of communication at the time which was writing notes about what had happened throughout my day. We got home; I went to my room thinking what was going to happen. With my parents reassuring me that everything was going to be fine, but I could see the fear in their eyes. We went to the doctor with no solutions but only experimental options.
Rejected by one doctor to another, we finally got an appointment at Sunset Kaiser where we met Dr. Ditirro. I walked in the doctor’s office knowing that my parents would ﬁght for what is best for me. We walked out with a date for my operation which was scheduled two weeks after. It felt like an eternity. We got home counting the days wondering if this is the answer.
The day came, waking up early with butterflies in my stomach not knowing what life had in store for me. On the drive to the hospital, anxious to get there but was feeling optimistic at the same time. We arrived at the hospital. We walked in and they prepped me for surgery. My parents beside me worried but still managed to make me feel comfortable. The doctor came in and told my parents to give me a kiss because it was time for my operation. It was time. The doctor leans over, told me to breathe in and count from 10 to l and I started to fall asleep hoping that this was the solution. I woke up with my parents beside me once again, feeling nauseous, unsteady, and sick from the anesthesia. The surgery well, but I still did not know if this had solved my problem. Still in silence, they sent me home with bandages on my head with and an appointment to return in 30 days. We arrived at home counting minutes, counting the days, feeling like the day would never come.
My mom woke me up, my scars had healed. We drove to our appointment, sitting in the office eager to know if the operation was a success. They ran tests; they plugged me into a machine.The silence had ended. The first thing I heard was the air coming through the vent. The joy took over my body. I could hear my brother’s voice, my mother telling me she loves me.
Immediately, I realized that I was given a second chance to listen and to talk to my friends, to hear my favorite music and never take things for granted. In real silence, there are too many things left unspoken. It is through listening and sound that we can truly feel every emotion that life offers. That experience has most deﬁnitely helped me to appreciate family, teamwork, and how persistence can make anything possible. It also developed the passion for me to become a psychologist. I want to use my gift of listening to help others find their solutions. I want to be their cochlear implant in their time of deafness.