In my previous article (March 23), I wrote about my hearing restoration journey. It spanned from my first doctor’s appointment, through surgery and the early weeks of recovery.
I ended with three weeks to go and anticipating a gradual, yet complete healing. I was dearly hoping for an Easter Mass where the struggle of muffled words would finally be replaced by the blessing of auditory clarity and ease. This being our Year of Hope, I thought it was apropos. So, to quote Paul Harvey, the 1970s and 80s talk radio legend, “Here’s the rest of the story!”
The halfway marker was a follow-up with Dr. Zach, the ENT who gave me the original diagnosis, recommended surgery and was part of the surgical team. I was looking forward to comparing his expectations to my progress.
He and Dr. Schoo, the surgeon, had put three prosthetic hearing bones in my ear that needed time to settle. They’d ordered six weeks of limitations such as no running, lifting anything remotely heavy or exerting myself in general — to go slow or just be still. That was going to be a challenge because despite being in prison, I have very busy, active days.
The one time I tried to do too much too fast, I felt wrong-footed and woozy and had to lay down. As I rested, God said, “Just be still and let Me take care of you.” It was a valuable lesson in God’s perfect plan for my recovery as well as my life.
After an encouraging conversation, Dr. Zach put a scope in my ear. He saw something that needed to come out, so he rummaged around with some tweezer-sized forceps, pulled out what seemed like a lava rock and dropped it in a stainless-steel dish. It landed with a light “tink,” so I just had to look. But then it dawned on me: I looked because I heard that teeny-tiny tink! It was the last of the icky, post-surgery remnants, yet it made the most beautiful sound. I was struck by the irony of how God can make beauty out of anything — even scabs, stitches, and scars.
That was the tipping point of my recovery. I had not known how much it was impeding sound, but once the ‘rock’ was removed, I was amazed by what else I could hear. I felt like Lazarus when the stone was removed from his tomb: I was experiencing a life-changing gift — I could hear clearly! I was so overjoyed that if I hadn’t been cuffed and shackled, I would’ve jumped up and done the Happy Dance!
The day after my appointment, I went for a longer than usual, leisurely walk on the track (no running yet. Sigh). Every single sparrow, dove, pigeon and starling within the fences seemed to have something to say or sing about. It was music to my ears, so together we praised and thanked God for His great gift.
A few days later, there were strong storms from Friday night into Saturday morning. For the first time in years, I was woken up from a sound sleep by the sound of rain on the window.
It was 5:50 a.m., so my brain wasn’t working yet. Eventually, it registered that it was raining outside and I could hear it inside! I sat straight up and put Simon, my cat who’d been awake for a while already, in my lap. We were transfixed by the raindrops falling against the barred window; wind howled, lightning cracked and thunder boomed, all in perfect cadence. I didn’t expect to go back to sleep but was lulled by the heavenly harmony and woke up two hours later feeling more refreshed and alive than ever, courtesy of God’s early morning symphony.
My recovery limitations were for six weeks, so at six weeks plus one day, I went for my first run. It was literally a test run to check the stability of my new ear parts. Praying every step of the way, I ran a half mile — it felt like a half marathon. I was exhilarated, excited and, to be honest, a little off-balance. God was telling me another week of going slow or being still was necessary.
I’m glad I listened to Him because I needed the extra time. That is something I never say; I’m a “now, please” not a “take all the time in the world” kind of girl. Nonetheless, it brings me to Easter Sunday’s successful multi-mile run. After watching Mass on TV, I celebrated Jesus’ resurrection by being outside in the glorious sunshine, listening to the birds sing their special songs of praise and running my little heart out! The extra ‘go slow or be still’ time paid off and I know God was smiling.
We had our Easter Mass on Monday and it was everything I’d been hoping for. (Prison scheduling is no easy feat.) I sang with such joy! Finally, I could hear everyone else, my own voice and the accompanying music all in sync. I didn’t have to rely so much on the visual cues I’d needed for too many years to play on time. Perhaps most significantly, I heard the Gospel and Father Trapp’s homily from my perch on the piano bench. No more sidling up the aisle during the Gospel, hoping no one would notice. Truly, I felt whole again. My hearing restoration is a perfectly timed Easter blessing that I will treasure for the rest of my life, no matter where I am.
And that, my friends, is the rest of the story!
Michele Williams is incarcerated at the Ohio Reformatory for Women in Marysville.