Sound

I had the first of this week’s MRIs yesterday and it went swimmingly. Granted, I’d followed my usual med scheme (half a calm-me-down pill the night before, the morning of and half an hour in advance) PLUS a couple gummies (watermelon flavor, mmmmmm). Also this was an open MRI—instead of being loaded like a bullet into a tube, I laid on a platform. Yes, the machine’s roof is right over me but the sides are mostly free and clear. Made a world of difference.
Tomorrow is my next couple of MRI’s. They're for my spine and will last a total of two hours. I’ll get the results on Tuesday when I see Doc Plotkin. While I know I’ll need more surgeries, I’m really hoping I can safely take a break from the OR. Not counting on it but wouldn’t it be nice.

The clicks and bangs made by an MRI always reminded me of nōgaku music. I wish I could still hear it.

Of course, I'll never hear the music made by a black hole either.

Nasa’s recording of rumbling sound waves from the Perseus galaxy cluster, 200m light years away, sounds, on first hearing, like a lot of submerged wailing – or indeed whales – but like many a classic, takes time to reveal its true complexity and profundity. The 34-second recording is a mantra-like loop or cycle, suggesting the influence of the 1970s German Krautrock bands Neu! and Can, and their gospel of repetition in music. (source)

OR Ten’s voice. We met 15 years after my audio system went *BOOM*

I never caught Amy Winehouse before the big boom either. I keep seeing her lionized—was she really all that and a bag of chips? I’ll never know.

Then there's Cake—apparently he’s a talker. He greets us, demands his meals, announces when he needs us to entertain him and lets us know when he requires pats and skritches. I think he gets that I’m deaf. Instead of just talking to me, he indicates or pantomimes his needs. AND, if I’m sitting in bed or my big green velvet chair, he’ll start clawing at the upholstery like an industrial shredder. Yes, that totally gets my attention.

An aside: Cake normally sleeps by my side or at my feet. Since Ten and Jen moved Coco’s high castle into the downstairs front window, Cake is bunking there. I guess it’s more fun watching out for marauding raccoons, skunks, stray cats and Rancor beasts than watching an old broad snore. Hmmph.

I’ll never hear babies crying on airplanes either. Granted, I’ve got to actually fly again in order to feel all smug about not experiencing the wailing bambinos. On top of that, annoying chit chat from seat mates (who are not Jen or Ten, who are never annoying), is decidedly past tense.

Or dimbulbs telling me I don’t need to wear a mask anymore—HAH! Today the seven day average of new cases, here in Massachusetts, is 2,022. I’m keeping my mask on.

There are, in fact, upsides to this deaf deal. We live in a cacophonous, angry-ass, ill mannered world—I don't mind missing out on all the aural pollution.