On the last day, while waiting for my doctor to sign the discharge papers, 4 of my closest male friends came to “sing” me out of the hospital. They were the boys from our high school Men’s Quartet. I had dated most of them at one time or another and we were all very close friends. They asked the nurses and the older lady healing from a broken arm who was now sharing my room, if it was okay to sing me a few tunes. Everyone agreed that their voices would be most welcome. I was happy to see them.
While they had each heard I had lost some hearing, they had no clue how much hearing loss I really had. They told me the titles of the songs they were going to sing and then I watched one of them blow out a long, silent note on the pitch pipe to get them started. I mustered up all the courage I could and took a deep breath.
As they began singing, I sat with the plastered smile I would come to know well and use frequently when I pretend I can hear more than I do. I could read their lips and I knew most of the words. I could see the rhythm on their swaying bodies. I was even mouthing the words along with them, but I heard nothing. Not one note.
After their first song, one of the guys asked me if I could hear them. I lied. I told them I could hear them a little bit, but not to worry. I motioned for them to keep on singing anyway. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what I would do with their long, sorrowful faces if I told them I couldn’t hear them. Actually, I didn’t want them to stop. I kept hoping my ears would magically clear up and suddenly I would hear them again.
The guys decided to turn up their volume for me in case that might help, but it didn’t. It did bring more staff and passers by to my doorway though. I watched them all enjoying the tunes, and put on my best face, but inwardly, I felt pretty lousy. I smiled bravely, secretly fighting off tears for the next several minutes as my friends went through their repertoire. Eventually though, my anguish began to surface and was mirrored back in my friends’ eyes.
These young men were the gentle knights I held captive with my siren voice; the romantic rogues who wooed me with their gallant songs. Music was our magic. Together, we sang in choirs and ensembles at school, twirled around the dance floors at proms, and rocked out on stage. We made beautiful music together. But now, I could see our hearts breaking. It was the beginning of the end of our musical connections. This would be the last time my special friends sang for me.
When they finished their melodies, they each hugged and kissed me one by one before they left. Their hugs were like a final goodbye. I felt like I was dying. The songbird with an ear for music was burning in the ashes. There would be no more music in my life, at least not the way I had known music. I began to feel lost and very alone in my inner world of silence.
As soon as they left, and I was alone, I wept profusely.
LaRonda,
After reading many, many chapters yesterday, you were in my thoughts throughout the rest of the day and I am still thinking about you and your experience this morning - your story is that powerful! I am just saddened that although I have “known” you for years, I do not really “know” you…I’m glad to know this part of what makes you you.
Anneliese
Left by Anneliese on January 18th, 2007