Beverly Biderman - Wired For Sound: A Journey Into Hearing, Revised And Updated, With A New Postscript

One of the most gratifying and surprising results of having taken the step to get a cochlear implant has been meeting and corresponding with the dedicated people working in this multidisciplinary field. Surgeons, audiologists, researchers, and other professionals have been generous with their time and knowledge in helping me to ensure that this book is an accurate and useful resource. I am especially indebted to the following for reviewing my entire manuscript and offering corrections and suggestions:

Peter Blamey Ph.D.

Noel Cohen M.D.

Carol De Filippo CCC-A, Ph.D.

Jane Opie CCC-A, Ph.D.

Julia Sarant B.Sc., Dipl. Aud.

Robert Shannon Ph.D.

David Shipp M.A., Aud(C)

Joanne Syrja M.P.A., H.S.A.

In addition, I thank Larry Orloff, Ellen Long, and Bena Shuster for reviewing the manuscript and offering comments, suggestions, and enthusiastic support. Esther and Jonathan Dostrovsky, good friends that they are, supplied a peaceful retreat where I could write.

But the list doesnt end there. There were many others who reviewed parts of the manuscript or gave me substantial assistance in the research and writing of this book. To them too, I am grateful:

Rick Apicella Esq.

Charles Berlin Ph.D.

Arthur Boothroyd Ph.D.

Dorothy Boothroyd-Turner M.E.D.

Melissa Chaikof

Graeme M. Clark M.D.

Don Eddington Ph.D.

Warren Estabrooks M.Ed., Dipl. Ed. Deaf

Lisa Geier M.A., CCC-A

Susan Goldberg Ph.D.

Leah S. Goodman

Linda Hanusaik M.Sc., Aud/SLP(C)

Nancy Hoffmann

William House M.D.

Brian Iler LL.B.

Bronya Keats Ph.D.

Susan Lawrence

Patricia Leake Ph.D.

William Luxford M.D.

Douglas P. Lynch

Louise McMorrow

Gary Malkowski

Linda Miland

Jean Moore Ph.D.

Monique Moore

Marilyn Morton Dipl. Ed. Deaf

Marilyn Neault Ph.D.

Julian Nedzelski M.D.

Amy Ng M.Sc., Reg. CASLPO

Steve Otto M.A.

Blake Papsin M.D.

Geoff Plant TTCTD

Tilak Ratnanather Ph.D.

Karen Rockow

Edwin Rubel Ph.D.

Brenda Ryals Ph.D.

Teri Sinopoli M.A., CCC-A

Leah Smith M.A., CCRA

William C. Stokoe Ph.D.

I am indebted as well to the wonderful community of cochlear implant users around the world who have shared their experiences in the pages of CONTACT (now defunct) and other journals, in correspondence, on the Internet, and in person.

My co-workers at the Johns Hopkins Hospital and I have long felt that it was only after we learned to listen to those who are deaf that we appreciated the implications of hearing. For all but a few, the sense of hearing has been with us since even before we were conscious of an outside world. Naturally accustomed to this stimulation, it is nearly impossible to understand life without it.

The advent of the cochlear implant has had a profound impact not only on clinical approaches to hearing loss, but also on discussions of cultural perspectives on deafness. The deepest level of understanding is perhaps available only to those who have been there and experienced both hearing and deafness.

A caterpillars metamorphosis into a butterfly may seem like an elegant and even romantic transition to the outside observer. For the caterpillar, however, the experience of metamorphosis is torment. During the transformation, it temporarily goes deaf and blind, its legs fall off, and its torso splits. The result? A transition manifested in the emergence of beautiful wings.

How does this compare to the communication change produced by cochlear implantation? The metamorphosis of a silenced sensory pathway into a functional human sense requires courage to journey into an area of great uncertainty. It means remaining motivated in that uncertainty and embracing the challenge of changing the very basis for relating to the outside world.

Many [culturally] Deaf individuals shun an implant as an ill-conceived attempt to achieve acceptance in the hearing world. They claim that the reality often falls short of this expectation, leaving implant recipients in a confusing middle ground between Deaf and mainstream culture. Cochlear implantation presents challenges, and an element of struggle, and it entails risk. Yet a growing number have been enticed to at least explore their candidacy, for it can offer immeasurable benefit.

Deafness affects and shapes social realities. Just as deafness is a shared disability, the process of restoring the sense of hearing is both intensely personal and collaborative at the same time. The diversity of results is testimony to the critical role that the commitment of family, friends, caregivers, and co-workers can play in nurturing a successful outcome with a cochlear implant.

The result? When we think about metamorphosis, we often envision a physical change that can be observed by the human eye, but Beverly Bidermans journey into deafness and back to hearing is a metamorphosis no less remarkable for being invisible. Just as the butterfly will fly into a new relationship with the world that the caterpillar could never even imagine, so those who undertake the journey into hearing may find themselves free to relate to the world and to communicate in new ways. This compelling book reminds us that what is most important in life is our connection to others.

John K. Niparko, M.D.
Professor Otolaryngology
Director, The Listening Center at Johns Hopkins
Baltimore Maryland
April 1998

Imagine yourself in a room with just a few close friends you love, talking and laughing. The conversation is quick and animated. It is too swift for you to follow on their lips, too difficult for you to understand because you are deaf. You sit in their midst with a frozen smile on your face, your cheeks aching, afraid to break the warm mood by telling them you are unable to understand. Your heart tightens and aches too. You feel angry that you are once again shut out, angry at yourself for being deaf, and at the world for expecting you not to be. Then, imagine another day, when you have a device implanted deep within your ear to help you to hear. Imagine that with it, you hear words and phrases in the air without looking for them on peoples lips. You understand not everything, but enough to feel a part of the group. You hear birds that were once silent, music that was once noise. Your cheeks thaw. Your heart opens up. Your anger melts, and you feel a sense of grace.

The device within my ear is a cochlear implant. For the first forty-six years of my life, it seemed that I was helpless to do anything about the progressive hereditary hearing loss that made my world increasingly quiet and increasingly frustrating. My moderate hearing loss in childhood became profound by the time I reached my early teens. Although I could talk, I could understand no speech at all unless I could also see it on the speakers lips. I could not use the telephone, nor listen to the radio. The cochlear implant my surgeon inserted when I was forty-six was the first real tool that enabled me to feel less helpless, less a victim of deafness.

This device is the first successful artificial sensory organ, the result of one of the most rapid advances ever made in medical technology. For children who cannot do well with hearing aids, it is the first major development to help them communicate in the 200 years since sign language was first established.

My cochlear implant is still somewhat of a novelty: there are only about 20,000 people in the world who have one. Hearing loss, however, is the most prevalent and fastest growing disability in North America, due to the aging of the population and the increase in noise pollution. These people could be candidates for this little-known procedure that can allow the deaf to hear birdsong, symphonies, and speech.