In the early 1980’s I joined the engineering team at what was at the time British Steel, based in the coatings dept at Shotton, working 4 on 4 off 12 hour shifts and did so for a dozen years before a positive change in circumstances and I moved to a sensible 8hr day shift monday to friday seconded to the accident prevention department, where I was sponsored by the company to gain my NEBOSH Dip2 in H&S management, eventually leading to an MSc degree in OSH.
Investors in People the initiative was called, guess I was in the right place at the right time, it safe guarded my future and brought me to where I am today.
Oh and I got this glass tankard too, wish I had kept the lovely presentation box, shove it on Antique Road Show in a few years and will be worth thruppence, at least I might get to meet the ridiculously gorgeous Fiona Bruce.
The damage to my hearing was already done. The millennium, 2000 when I was referred to the audiology dept at Wrexham Maelor, I was diagnosed with mild hearing loss due to exposure to noise and was given two chunks of plastic to shove in my ears!
I didn’t wear them I guess vanity won out, and hey fuck it is only mild hearing loss.
In 2001, redundancies hit and yup Mr. G was excess to requirements, but I can’t complain, the money they had invested in me with education paid dividends and by the time I walked out the gates for the last time I had secured a position initially as a regional H&S manager with a major waste and recycling company where I stayed until I walked out in 2017, put my feet up and retired from my position of Head of European H&S.(That is another story.......I am still under a NDA).
Now without going all blah blah blah, going off topic and mansplaining what was involved let me just say the process line was just under half a mile long, about 100ft wide and just as high, basically a heavy continuous strip steel process line enclosed in a brick and steel box. Preventative and reactive maintenance usually meant that for 8 hours a shift one would be on the tools in the steel box getting bombarded by unwanted sound, known to the world as noise.
Who else remembers the good old days at grammar school, before calculators, when in the 2nd year the first maths lesson everyone was issued with a “log book”, and woe behold anyone who didn’t memorise the 3 main rules of logarithms before the next lesson!
So, Noise, complicated logarithmic calculations, let’s just understand in a quiet office environment it is 60 decibels. I was operating in an environment in excess of 90 decibels. Not much of a difference?
WRONG! a 10dB increase is equivalent to a 10 fold increase , a 30 dB increase is 10^3….1,000 times louder.
Up until the introduction of the Noise Regs. in 1992, the protection of an employees hearing was pretty vague to say the least, The Factory Act 1961, required reasonably practicable steps to be taken to protect “hearing”, but with no mandated exposure limits and no references to PPE, employers tended to do fuck all, and this lot didn’t until they started handing out around about 1994, what transpired to be inadequate protection in the form of in the ear foam buds. Similar to these.
The journey really begins here
I was struggling a little bit, especially with unknown voices; in 2008, I ventured to Nepal, with a bunch of strangers, strange voices different accents, my fellow travellers thought that I was aloof, as I seemed to only speak to them or reply to them, when I felt like it. Thing is I just couldn't hear them fully. I think it dawned on me then that “I have a fucking problem”
Back to the Maelor, yup, noise induced hearing loss, a situation that is not reversible and will degrade with time, a progressive disease if you will.
I kept my NHS devices, didn't wear them that often and a lesson I learned was that vanity costs money....
I went private, between 2008 and 2019 I must have spent close on £10k following the advice of different private audiologist companies promising "the latest technology and best on the market hearing aids" lying cheating money grabbing twats. They were very discrete but I still struggled.
Grew up put my vanity in the bin and from 2020 started wearing the fucking big lego bricks in my ears, bigger now than ever before to attempt to compensate for my loss. Yes, the NHS were correct, they provide the best hearing aids possible, not as sexy but more efficient than private ones. Regular hearing tests annually, being told it is getting worse didn't help.
July 2024 was a momentous month, a life changing month really. It was at the annual check up where in addition to a normal audiogram I had to take other tests, the result.
"You fit the criteria for a cochlear implant, hearing aids are no longer any use to you."
It was explained to me what would occur.
"Ok let's go for it, best get the ball rolling, probably a 2 year waiting list anyways" says I.
"Oh no, you will have had the surgery by early next year" said the man.
I didn't believe him
Why no hesitation? because my youngest grand daughter is an accomplished pianist and vocalist, I go to concerts she performs in, but moral support only. I can't fucking hear her! I never gave it a second thought.
Within 10 days a letter and my rather weighty information pack arrived and a date for my first appointment on the 29th July to attend Glan Clwyd hospital to start the process.
After attending my meeting with the Head of the implant department to discuss the process, and that I must be committed as the cost to the NHS would be £45k; that is why they only fit one per person. My life was put on hold, as the process would be intense with many appointments made, some I was told at short notice if cancellations cropped up. I did have several follow up meetings with various team members, which included psychological assessments, MRI and CAT scans, until when on the 26th November I met my surgeon to be.
Pre-op in December and date for surgery...... 19th February. "Oh ye of little faith"
The day of reckoning
I arrived as instructed for 7:30 am, registered and waited, it was to be an op. under general anaesthetic, as a day case which was good.
I waited and waited until 2pm when I was suitably dressed my time had come, all that is missing is a pair of stiletto heeled shoes and I would certainly look good on the catwalk as well as the operating theatre.
If you have never undergone general anaesthesia personally, I would describe it as a rather weird and wonderful experience (but me, I am a little strange).
I felt the drugs passing into my arm through the canula and my words? "Ah crap, here weeeeeeeeeeeeee....."
To sleep, perchance to dream.
Three hours later, I have a nurse stroking my brow awakening me, writing instructions on a whiteboard, " Breathe deep, stay awake eyes open". Who am I to argue with an Angel.
Under there went this handy little gizmo, if Hivians, we ever meet I will allow you to caress my head and feel my bumps. No charge made.
This, the electrode, threaded into the cochlear. To stimulate the audio nerve. I enjoy being stimulated.
I had discussed this previously with Mr Flook the surgeon, after reading my scans the electrode being inserted had never been used before, normally they are 20mm in length, this version was 34mm long, my head was suitable, this would enable deeper insertion and greater connectivity with the audio nerve. The downside though was any residual hearing I still had in my right ear would be lost...forever. The upside would be greater recognition of sound across more frequencies.
Life is risk, every decision we make is a gamble, there are consequences. "If you ain't living on the edge, you are taking up too much space" It really was not up for discussion.
Back came The Angel with her Sharpie and whiteboard with offers and gifts of sustenance. I like both.
7:00pm my daughter arrives and I am on my way home
The end???????
Far from it!!!!
Go get a tea break, this will still be here if you return.- -
The day of reckoning +1
1:00 am I am sitting watching TV, wasn't tired.
Tickle, tickle, that is what I felt under my right ear lobe. Trickle trickle, blood is what I found, emanating from the surgical scar. Ah fuck fuck fuck.
A friend of mine had come to stay for a few days to make sure I was ok, alas she hadn't packed her ann summers naughty nurse outfit, and having gone to bed she was not happy being woken up at such stupid o'clock by a man, in just his pants, blood pouring from his head wailing that he is to young to die.
NHS 111 service
Initially proposed back in 2010 by the Conservative-Liberal Democrat coalition government, (The worst period of government ever in the uk, the tory posh boys and the lib-dem wet wipes together fucking things up, cameron sucking clegg's cock was the only way he could grasp at power and get his snout deeper in the trough).
So NHS 111 is a telephone service part of a so called integrated 24/7 urgent care service. (allegedly, because it is fucking useless).
Attempting to explain to the civilian call centre worker through a third party was nigh on impossible all this data privacy bollox having to confirm every statement being made on my behalf with "yes that's correct" or "yes I agree" soon on my part descended to " for fuck sake put me through to someone with medical qualifications you chimp." My friend apologised! and was promised a call back within 30 minutes.
The call never came (still hasn't months later). Executive decision made off to A&E at wrexham maelor, to mix with the great unwashed.
- 1:00am Arrival
- 3:00am triaged, definitely a swelling on the head.
- 6:05am see a doctor, suggested it was water! "erm well unless the water is fucking red, I beg to differ". My friend apologises...again.
- 9:30am see an ENT Registrar, she agrees it is not water, technical term haematoma. She is accompanied by a doctor, the most beautiful young Indian woman I have ever seen. Step aside Fiona Bruce I am in love.
- 9:50am consultant returns, alone, DAMN! has spoken with my surgeon at Glan Clwyd, an operation is required to investigate and drain. I need to be transferred ASAP.
- 9:55am cannula inserted, pumped full of antibiotics, and another fucking blood test taken, and this rate I will have nothing left. sit and wait patiently in a corridor.
- 11:00am the love of my life returns I am informed that as soon as an ambulance is available I will be transferred, to Glan Clwyd. 11:20am Moved back into the general waiting room, sat in a wheel chair like some dribbling old fogie, my god I am not a snob, but sheesh, wrexham has a lot of scruffy residents; there are about 100 people sitting around, none of whom look ill or injured. It is like being sat in the Jedi bar.
- 11:30 my friend is a snob, she said she has to go as this place was stressing her out; the clientele, and the coffee vending machine which was out of order! Her being stressed out was making me stressed out. So with my blessing off she fucked.
"Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day, fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way."
- 5:30pm Ok, my patience was gone, there are straws that break camels backs, I now have a fucking Lidl carrier bag full. Finding a nurse at a computer screen, she gets it both barrels, she needs to get the message.
" We can guarantee there will be an ambulance available within six hours"
" That means I get sent at some unknown time, to sit in the A&E at Glan Clwyd for another fuck knows how long, what if I pull this thing out of my arm, get in a taxi and go there myself?"
"You can't do that, you would be discharging yourself and the process would have to be started all over again"
"That is no different to sitting here or in Glan Clwyd for another fucking day, is it" My friend was not here to apologise.
"Sit back in the waiting room I shall try and get an update"
- 6:00pm A nurse arrives, removes cannula, tells me there is a taxi waiting outside to take me to Glan Clwyd, they are expecting me.
" Well whoop de freaking doo, why could this of not been done this morning, fucking useless, if my friend was here she would apologise to you"
" I don't know, I have only been on duty an hour"
- 7:30pm Arrive at Glan Clwyd, register hand over the paperwork I was given. checks, chats with my original apologetic surgeon, "No need to apologise Mr. Flook these things happen, one of those things"
- 8:35pm The rush up the cannula, "Here we go agai..........
- 11:00pm Back to life, back to reality, wheeled up to and installed into a private ward. Until I was woken up at 6:00 am for blood pressure and all that malarkey.
Selfie time, before being told NO! I couldn't have sausage and bacon brought up from the public cafeteria. I had to settle for a couple of yoghurts and a cup of tea. That wiped the smile off my face I can tell you!
Away from the great unwashed
Room with a view, somewhere in the murk on the horizon is the Irish Sea, I pass the morning away reading my current book ,"Say Nothing" a true story from the inside of the IRA. gerry adams is a lying twat, was (is) their leader and a terrorist.(elephant in the room).
Now some kindly person thought it would be a good idea to order my lunch for me, I fucking hate fish!
But seeing as I had not had a proper meal for nearly 36hours down it went along with the lemon sponge and custard. It was the best meal I have ever had!
"You will have some bruising afterwards." I was forewarned by Mr Flook.
Given my discharge at 6pm and driven to my doorstep by ambulance without even asking, that is service with a smile.
I now had to wear my glasses without the arm until I had my stitches removed a week later, and then two weeks after that....... the big switch on.
No need to shout I'm not deaf!
"How am I feeling" I was asked by the clinical audiologist when I turned up, (drove myself to Glan Clwyd!), for the big switch on
"Excited" no other words to describe it.
It wasn't a case of flicking a switch, I was with them for 4 hours, connected to various audio machines so that each individual electrode contact was set to meet what was needed, and as I was the first in the UK to accept this new implant, the boffins from Med-El were there filming it, I guess to capture the effectiveness and my reactions. let's just say, I bet they didn't expect a grown man to burst into tears of wondrous joy.
I had been given the kit when I had my stitches out, "to play with and get to understand"
A lot of style over substance I think, the boxes were opened and the contents removed, shame that I have just bought a brand new camera bag as this holdall would have done the job admirably
So here it is the outside bit. A microphone in the the processor captures the sound waves which are converted to electrical signals, which are then sent to the internal implant, via the cable and magnet. The internal processor picks up these signals and then stimulates the auditory nerve, which transmits the signals to the brain, which then interprets them as sound.
For the first couple of days if I am honest, everyone sounded like Stephen Hawkins on helium, fuck it was weird, but eventually my brain started working. mentally taxing and tiring as I pushed myself harder that I was supposed to, and continue so to do with hours spent doing online listening, exercises, speech recognition tests and listening to audiobooks. No pain: No gain. Music, proper music, is still difficult. Sophia is performing at the end of June. I will be there and I will be ready. Glass half full again.
I have been going back to Glan Clwyd, every week through March where the processor and implant are ramped up, the loudness and intensity of each frequency increased. Now I am visiting every three months and have to do so for the next 12 months, until the rehabilitation is hopefully complete.
Evolution
So, once where stupid vanity was paramount, I now wear this device as a badge of honour, changing the covers as the mood takes me, I have contacted the company to see if they can make one with coffins and gravestones on.
As yet I have not had a reply!
