Lest I forget what life was like before being saved by a cochlear implant….
My people don’t talk in the waiting room. They are already tired from asking directions at the front desk and figuring out the receptionist’s instructions. Once they are sitting down and waiting to be called, they want to be left alone. After all these years of becoming increasingly deaf, I know what other hearing impaired people are thinking.
Don’t talk to me.
Don’t talk to me. I’m saving my concentration and effort for the doctor. He’s the one I need to hear today. You look nice. But don’t talk to me.
I look from one door to the other, worried that if I look down at my phone to kill time, someone will call my name and I won’t hear. So I’m vigilant. Waiting and vigilant. I don’t want to be caught unaware, be the person whose name is called over and over, appear to be really far gone, need…
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