At the end of a long, noisy day

Some people remove their hearing aids

Or sound processors

For some quiet time, some peace

Before going to bed.

 

These are the moments of ahhh……

 

For others, removing their technology

And moving about, soundless

Makes them feel uncomfortable, disconnected,

Floating in a world of cotton batten.

Footsteps are silent

Light switches don’t click

Words seen on the lips of others,

Carry no vibrations.

These people prefer sound over silence.

 

But for me, there is always sound

Whether I wear my technology

Or remove it.

 

In the morning, shortly after rising

I put on my hearing aid and sound processor

Which feed me sounds

All day, all evening,

Right up to the moment,

Before I turn out the light,

When I remove them, bidding them goodnight.

 

Then it is dark,

And I am deaf –

To the external sounds but

The internal whooshes, roars and hums

Of tinnitus become louder,

Having no competition

From real sounds.

 

Sleep comes, sooner or later.

In my dreams, I don’t have hearing loss

And even better, there is no tinnitus.

One day, perhaps,

The head sounds will be gone 24/7.

 

But for now, it’s only at night,

When I am deaf and in a dream world

That sound originates where it’s supposed to:

Outside, not inside, my head.

 

For now, in the morning,

As my sleeping brain

Swims back to consciousness

A new day of inner-and-outer sound

Starts again.

4 Responses to At Night, When I am Deaf

  1. SLCCOM says:

    You do have a great visual smoke detector, don’t you? We’d hate to lose you .

  2. Jaika Witana says:

    I understand that you know very well that what you “hear” (tinnitus) is not sound. Although it might well seem to you like “sound” …

    • Gael Hannan says:

      Thank you, Jaika, I’m glad you understand that. We use words as best as we can to convey our situation and emotions.

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