206 My email feed and Facebook page burn with coronavirus news and magic ways to avoid the covid-19 pandemic. I remind myself to breathe. Our house is on fire. And still, the moon makes her nightly rounds
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363 Just before our fortieth wedding anniversary in 2008, I drive my husband Vic to Strong Hospital where he’s being treated for lymphoma. The long drive is familiar after two years. Spring-green hillsides shout May vitality and
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296 I’ve always felt grounded, sturdy in my hiking boots on a challenging trail, but there is no “always” in bodies. We change constantly, quickly or slowly. In 2013, as my L ear roared and the hearing
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481 With morning dew on the grass and the sun rising over the hill, I wander through the milkweed patch choosing the healthiest young plants to feed the Monarch caterpillars. I find Monarch eggs and tiny caterpillars
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291 I wake up gently, yawn, and bury my head in warm blankets. “You should get up and meditate,” an inner voice suggests, ever so sweetly. She has many ideas, most beginning with you should…. I ignore
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162 “I need help,” I said. I was a mother pleading for her child. The deaf child in me felt isolated and abandoned. I struggled to hear friends or a phone call. Constant vertigo and a roar
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199 “Is this easier or harder?” my audiologist asks. “Raise your hand when you hear a beep. Do you prefer program 1 or program 4? You made great progress in a week, so keep going.” It feels
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136 The day before cochlear implant surgery, I lifted weights and took a long brisk walk. Five weeks later, I feel a flickering flame of vitality, fragile and easily snuffed out by stress or restless sleep. Arctic
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My support system is in place, but no one can protect me from vulnerability. When you read this, cochlear implant surgery will be over and I’ll be home recovering. As I write a few days before surgery,
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139 I heard Evelyn Glennie’s TED talk “How to Truly Listen” when I did a google search for deafness. In 2013, five years after my husband’s death, my already impaired hearing took a nose dive. A new
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