Finally, Li was there, with little Tom. Li looked at Sophie and I felt his heart clench. ‘You have to hold it together for her, Li,’ I told him.
‘Hello, sweetheart!’ He gave her a very gentle kiss on the forehead, being careful to avoid her heavily bandaged head. She smiled and showed him her doll. Li then started to spoon-feed her homemade fried rice he had brought from home. I hugged Tom tightly. I felt overwhelmed with emotion, but I had to hold it together, too.
The day after the surgery, the room started filling up with teddy bears, balloons and flowers from our friends. The next afternoon, Ginya and Clayton came with their children, Kelley and John. Sophie stayed in hospital for two more nights and I was with her the whole time. Tom was looked after by Pat during the day. I was lucky to have her to help us.
A few days later, we went back to Dr Jenkins for him to remove the bandage. I was not prepared to see half of Sophie’s beautiful jet-black hair shaved off. Big ugly stitches stretched from behind her ear in an arc across the side of her head. It was horrific to see, but I kept my happy face on. For Sophie.
‘It looks good,’ Dr Jenkins declared upon inspection. ‘We won’t be covering that with another bandage. It will heal very quickly. The main thing is not to get it wet or bump it. Keep her quiet for a few days and maybe just give her a sponge bath, no shower or bath. Come back in ten days to have the stitches out. And we’ll set up the appointment with the audiologist to switch her on.’
I nodded. It was a lot to process, but I was so grateful for Dr Jenkins’ honesty and professionalism through all this. Sophie could see I was happy, so she smiled too. I carefully brushed back the remaining hair on the left side of her head, scooped it up into a lopsided ponytail and tied it with a large red bow. That would keep the hair away from the stitches for now. Then we were off home with the cochlear doll in her hand.
For the next ten days, I tried to keep Sophie quiet and happy. We looked at picture books, I let her watch television and play in the cubbyhouse. Luckily, she seemed to recover remarkably quickly. When we returned for the removal of the stitches, she sat on my lap like an angel as Dr Jenkins snipped the seventy-five stitches from her head. Just amazing! I was relieved that it looked much better when the stitches were out. Now we had to wait for her hair to grow back to cover the large scar. An appointment was made with the hospital audiologist, Rose, for Sophie’s new implant to be switched on in three weeks time.
The day finally arrived. I was beyond excited. This could change Sophie’s life, and ours, if it worked. Butterflies filled my stomach as I drove with Sophie to the hospital.
Rose was setting things up and gave Sophie some toys to play with. She then put a magnet with a cord attached onto Sophie’s head, connecting to the internal magnet that had been surgically implanted. She was extra gentle with Sophie, which made her feel at ease, as her scar was still tender. The cord led to a little box the size of a cigarette packet sitting on the table, which Rose said was Sophie’s new speech processor. Then it was connected to a computer with all sorts of cords and other various testing devices. Rose explained cochlear implants have twenty-two electrodes inside the metal rod to transmit electrical impulses that trick the brain into thinking it is sound. The computer program would ‘map’ the electrodes to give Sophie some simulation of sound. Incredible, really, I thought.
Rose told me that she was going to send soft beeps to Sophie’s implant. Progressively, she would increase the sounds to louder beeps until they got to an uncomfortable level. She left me with the instruction to read Sophie’s expressions. ‘I need you to let me know as soon as you think she is hearing anything, any reaction at all. That way we will get the most accurate map for her,’ Rose said, while clicking away on the computer screen filled with what looked like mostly vertical lines with lots of dots. ‘At the upper levels, the sound can get too loud, which could startle Sophie, so let me know when she starts to look uncomfortable.’
Rose began to slowly click her computer mouse. I tapped Sophie’s shoulder to get her attention, pointing to my ear to indicate that she needed to listen. Rose clicked again and I saw Sophie move her head. I inhaled sharply. Her eyes seemed to say that she’d heard something. I told Rose this. She smiled and nodded at me and we continued on. Click. Click. Rose had warned me that getting a full map could take over an hour, so I had brought snacks and a drink to keep Sophie happy. I was playing gently with Sophie but watching her intently for any subtle response. She looked up occasionally from the toys. Click. And sometimes she blinked a bit, showing slight discomfort.
‘Please, God, let Sophie hear,’ I prayed. ‘Let her get a good map!’
After an hour, Rose told me it was done. She unplugged the processor from the computer and gently fitted Sophie with her new device. There was a harness that would hold the external processor and sit at the front of Sophie’s chest. It had a wire connected to what looked like a hearing aid but was part of the implant. Rose then connected the wired magnet behind Sophie’s ear.
Sophie didn’t seem to mind all this equipment. Rather she was curious about what was happening to her. I marvelled at her patience and tolerance. I suspected she knew that this was about her hearing. It was now the moment of truth: the implant was switched on. I held my breath.
From that time on, I never stopped talking. I knew I had to put the sound in there for Sophie to develop language. Every waking moment was full-steam ahead with speech therapy. Li was overjoyed. ‘So she can hear from the implant?’ he asked, not quite believing.
‘Yes, I think so! But that’s just beeps. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is not language. This is only the beginning.’ I also tried to contain my excitement. It was too early to be sure.
‘It’s fantastic that she can hear sound,’ he insisted.
‘But the real work starts now, Li,’ I said, knowing what was ahead of us.
Over the next few weeks, I would test whether she could hear me. When she turned away, I would click-click with my tongue like Niang used to do. Sophie would turn every time. Next, I would try calling her name and she would turn. She was hearing my voice like never before! I celebrated every one of these small victories.
The first thing I did every morning was to put on Sophie’s harness with the implant turned on. Then I would look down and test the little red dot was lighting up as I said, ‘Ba ba ba’. Each time the red dot lit up, a sound signal was transmitted into her brain. That’s when I knew it was on and working. While she was wearing the implant, I watched her constantly. If I felt she wasn’t hearing well, I would say ‘Ba ba ba’ and check to see if the little red light on the implant box was flashing. Sometimes it did break, and I had to figure out if it was the magnet, the wire attached to the magnet, or the wire attached to the box or the rechargeable batteries. I always had spare batteries on hand. The FM had four AA batteries and the implant had one. The hearing aid for the left ear also needed to be checked every night. If something was wrong and it wasn’t the batteries, then it must be the wires or connectors. In that case, it would require a trip to the hospital to have it looked at. It was quite an ordeal sometimes, dealing with all this first thing in the morning while feeding Tom and changing nappies. It was a steep learning curve.