My Last Post

A Mid-Single Mormon Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Woman (gotta find a better moniker) has dreams: of walking hand-in-hand with a worthy priesthood holder and the eternal family they created. To carve her niche in a successful, fulfilling career.

Before the mortar of her zeal, has a chance to congeal. The cup is dashed from her lips, the flame is snuffed. Her dreams are shattered before her very eyes.

My world was calm, well-ordered, but lonely.

Then came this Sensorineural Hearing Loss, with chaos in its wake.

And now my life’s ambitions go with one fell blow.

It’s quite a bitter pill to take.

(Richard and Robert Sherman, “A Man Has Dreams”)

Temple married parents divorcing, sexually molested by a stranger in my own bed at 21, underemployed despite earning two bachelor’s degrees. No opportunities, no romance, no break from monthly menstrual cycles (until I went on the pill) no home of my own, no babies to call me Mommy and teach piano; ambiguous losses all. These, I thought, were the absolute worst trials I could ever endure.

Yet, I still had my coping strategies: music, my calling as primary pianist, singing in ward and stake choirs, my go-to DVDs, get-togethers with friends and favorite nephews and family. These activities made me happy. Reminded me life wasn't so bad. Perhaps one day, I’d find out why I was put on this earth. Perhaps one day, I would have that successful job or maybe a home, temple marriage and eternal family of my own as I’d once been told in a priesthood blessing three years ago after I’d attempted to take my own life…

We make plans.

And God laughs.

The date was January 6, 2018, Saturday evening. After finishing another grueling day at work, I went to a friend’s movie party where I realized that feeling of fullness the last few days in my left ear was now making everything sound like it was from Star Wars. Glad I’d chosen the left side of the couch with an armrest to lean; I watched Iron Man with a finger in my ear.

What was going on? Yes, I was slowly recovering from another nasty bout with a winter illness these last two weeks, but nobody ever suffered mild hearing losses from little trifling colds…did they?

Eleven days later found me in the ear, nose and throat doctor’s office. The audiologist gave me a hearing test, (which my left ear failed) and I was diagnosed with Sensorineural Hearing Loss. The ENT prescribed prednisone.

Weeks passed. I took the steroid faithfully and tried not to worry. Since my younger brother didn't feel up to it, I asked him to assist my stepfather in a priesthood blessing in which I was told the Lord had many blessings that He wanted to bless me with…and that there would be no permanent damage to my hearing. I felt better, but, 30 days later, still no change in my left ear’s perception of sound. Meanwhile, this unilateral hearing continued to plague me. The continued feeling of fullness, the horrible discovery that being in a quiet room now included a new companion-tinnitus. I’d grit my teeth and try to focus on reading my book-the only pastime left that didn't involve this new CGI effect in my left ear.

“What’s wrong?” My six-year nephew, Charlie, paused in his chatter to ask, the screeching sound of his voice in my left ear was making me frown. Would I never hear the voices of loved ones again without them sounding so…processed? It was like a hole had been blown open in my head. The world turned upside down. Or at least on its ear (no pun intended). I reassured him it was nothing, I was fine.

I lied.

With only a 20% chance of making any difference in recovery, I started intratympanic corticosteroid injections in my middle ear. The ENT didn’t have much else to offer but I was getting desperate. My hyper-awareness senses of this issue had been dialed to eleven.

Simple pleasures such as curling up in front of television, practicing the piano, listening to music in the car, were no longer enjoyable. Every time the landline phone rang, it set my teeth on edge. I was having trouble sleeping at night. My already stressful job at a call center had gotten worse. Sitting in Sunday worship service, I cringed at the calliope organ cacophony in my left ear. I had once had a desire to learn this instrument. Would I never enjoy music again? Being in any room with multiple talkers was becoming unbearable. Never in my life had I desired anything more than to hear normally again in my left ear. I wanted, no, I NEEDED this to go away.

I wanted my old trials back.

One night, in the middle of February, my stepfather found me on my knees in my room, sobbing. After attempting to watch a library DVD, I broke down. I missed my hearing.

It was not the last time they would find me in such a position.

Even an earplug wedged in my left ear didn't entirely block out the higher pitch amplification from media. This “mild,” my mom and stepdad kept reminding me, hearing loss had not only included the loss of all low frequency sounds but had sucked all remaining joy out of my life most effectively.  There was nothing “mild” about this. I had no coping strategy for this.

“Maybe you should move out, if you’re so unhappy here,” they suggested after I'd gone through another box of kleenex. Foxes have holes; birds have their nests…where would I go? Such is the Christ-like perception of the two people I’m supposed to call parents.

My life had become a nightmare.

I was crying more than a character in an Anita Stansfield novel.

The ENT’s next suggestion was an MRI. To indicate the possible presence of a tumor on or near the auditory nerve, that might explain this hearing loss.

They found this instead, (white arrow-ignore the yellow)

That is a pituitary adenoma. Not cancerous, not life-threatening, but large enough to concern both the neurologist and neurosurgeon; both advised an operation, ASAP. At their recommendation, I made an appointment with a special eye doctor to make sure that the non-malignant tumor wasn't already pressing on my optical nerve. The doctor determined my eyes were still healthy but the neurosurgeon had told me, if this large tumor ever decided to rupture, I could end up going blind.

I’d rather undergo a surgery to restore my hearing.

For the record, at the audiologist’s suggestion, I did try wearing a hearing aid for a week but instead of filling that gaping hole, it only amplified the other sounds in my left ear. I didn't like it. There was nothing restorative about it. It didn't feel right so I gave it back.

Why did God strike me down like this? Never mind this benign growth in my brain. Never mind surgery. What did I need to do in order to hear again?

I decided to put God to the test. I began by dedicating my early morning hours of insomnia to intensive scripture study and prayer. If I could't waste time anymore in front of the TV or listening to my favorite iTunes playlists, I would show God how serious I was in doing whatever it took to restore my hearing. I would pass that hearing test! I would get my old life back but this time, I resolved, I would be a new person.

I pleaded with God to make this go away. Never again would I complain about being single and childless or underemployed. I would keep all the commandments, break bad habits, and rededicate my life to being a disciple of Jesus. I would even learn how to play the organ, give Sister Tillman, the only other piano player and organist in our ward, a break. 

Were these not righteous desires? Like the brother of Jared had faith that God could touch simple stones and bring light, so I had faith God could touch my ear and bring my hearing back-as I “thought I heard” in not one, but two priesthood blessings.

Never mind my stepfather kept insisting what I only “thought” I’d heard while he claimed he couldn't recall exactly the words he’d spoken in the blessing he’d given me. I knew what I’d heard. I knew it and I knew that God knew it. And I could not deny it; neither dared I do it…

Months passed. In March, I went to my bishop for any advice he might have for me. He shared 

1 Nephi 17:13 and I was comforted. Discouraged by the blessing I’d asked for back in January, which seemingly had no effect, I went to my stake president for a second priesthood blessing in which I was told to continue living life, to be happy…and that my hearing would be restored.

I planted tomatoes in the garden and flowers in the planters. I transcribed my grandfather’s journal to a word document. Then I began the most intensive study of the Book of Mormon I’d ever undertaken in my life-even when I was on my mission. Page after page of scratch paper filled with chapter summaries and personal thoughts. (I plan to finish Moroni this weekend and I’ll be done) Every single time the missionaries texted me to play the piano for one of their baptisms, (seven so far) I arranged the time away from work and was happy to serve-earplug and all!

April found me furiously scribbling notes (earplug firmly in place) while I listened to general conference. It was the only way I could focus on the sermons without bursting into tears; especially when the Mormon Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square sang. I began doing this at church in sacrament meeting on Sundays as well. When it was time to play for primary, I wore the earplug, gritted my teeth and forced myself to focus; blowing my nose and blinking back tears between songs. I was never going to get used to this.

Perhaps next year will be easier with the new schedule change.

Daily (hourly!) prayer, scripture study and fasting-all activities I hadn't done in many years-had become my new focus. With a prayer in my heart, I accepted three separate invitations to attend the temple with my two best girlfriends. I would show the Lord how serious I was about this. Starting in April, I didn't just fast each month, but twice a month. “For this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting,” (Matthew 17:21).

Morning and evening prayer, including praying over my meals if I was eating alone, brought strength. Going to the temple and reading the Book of Mormon brought that “power” our late prophet Ezra Taft Bensen said will flow into your life the moment you begin a serious study of the Book of Mormon. I know this to be true and encourage anyone reading this to do the same. I was sleeping better now. I found it was possible to go more than three days without crying. By the grace of God, call center work was getting easier but I still struggled to pray without sobbing in desperation. I wanted to be happy again. I came across Alma 28:6 “And now surely this was a sorrowful day; yea, a time of solemnity, and a time of much fasting and prayer.” Encouraged, I felt that I was on the right track. Ancient people often fasted during a time of mourning. I was already doing the same.

Summer arrived. I took a six-day trip with my best girlfriends to Wisconsin and Chicago. Whenever the hearing loss became too much to bear (usually by the end of the day when listening fatigue would set in) I’d pop in the ear plug and get through one more day.

It was the longest I’d gone without crying.

I’d no sooner returned from my relaxing trip, back to my call center job, when it was announced this project (tech support for AT&T) was ending. New (and exciting) opportunities would soon be available to us. It was the answer to prayers. For months-even before the hearing loss-I'd been stressing over why I should continue working at a job that had been giving me nightmares. It was a sign God still wanted me to work here and with all the medical bills piling up, the question of a future brain surgery, I would need to sign up for better insurance when open enrollment came around.

After reading on the internet that Niacin (or vitamin B3) supplements helped reduce tinnitus, (not a proven study but, remember, I'm desperate) I bought a bottle at the pharmacy, took one every day and stopped taking the pill. It only took three months to learn sensorineural hearing loss was NOT a sign of menopause. The tinnitus, however, continued. Low tones in my left ear were still absent. I hated this and continued to share my feelings with a loving Heavenly Father, letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that He was ruining my life.

I think I heard Him chuckle.

Finally, slowly and piecemeal, I found I could play the piano on Sundays now without the earplug. The piano at home being very out of tune may have had something to do with it. I rejoined the ward choir-struggling to blend. The processed, amplified sounds in my left ear were, by degrees, getting softer. Not going away entirely, but becoming more endurable.  I could sing again without being distracted by how my own voice sounded on the left side of my head, drowning out the music. One night in August, I invited my two best girlfriends over for dinner and to watch an old musical. That night I (again) thanked God for his tender mercies as I was able to watch, even enjoy, the DVD without the need for the earplug.

In September, my younger brother decided to celebrate his 40^th birthday in Vegas with all five of his siblings. Even our biological father flew down from Seattle to join the party. My brother and I found him at the Stratosphere sky bar, enjoying a rum and Coke. Throwing a very relaxed arm around my shoulders, he declared me his “Wonderful oldest daughter! Look at her, isn't she great?!”

This from a man who had once held the priesthood.

I celebrated my own 44^th birthday a week later. The following Sunday was the primary program (may God have mercy on us!). I’d practiced the eight songs as much as I’d been able to bear. I was wearing the new dress I’d bought for the wedding reception of my best friend earlier this year (they’d met, dated and married during this entire time I’d been agonizing over my hearing loss). Making a point not to wear the earplug because everyone sits on my left and, such as my hearing was I needed to hear them, I marched up to the stand to the baby grand piano, ignored the noise in my left ear and forced my fingers to remember all their fingerings on the keys; determined not to detract from the spirit of the meeting. If this was the last time I’d accompany the children in their yearly program, I was going to make it my best one ever!

Today is October 6. Ten months since this whole nightmare started.

With the program out of the way, I will probably talk to the bishop again but this time about being released from my calling and moving my records to the Elephant Graveyard of the church (aka, the mid-singles ward) in my own neighborhood. But I've been invited to sing in a small women’s quartet in sacrament meeting later this month…so maybe I won’t talk to him just yet.

Since the new Ministering (Shepherding?) program was announced, I’d fasted and prayed to know if God wasn't punishing me for trying to be part of a family ward when I’d made the choice to move in with my parents and live outside the ward boundaries. Living in a home (someone else’s home) with a piano, garden and comfortable rooms had come at a terrible price. With all my bills, I could never afford to move out into a home of my own now. I’d need a roommate but I needed quiet and solitude more, thanks to sensorineural hearing loss.

And so, this is my Last Post.

The idea of dating or marrying anyone is impossible. Even if that young man spoken of in my patriarchal blessing showed up now, what activities could we possibly enjoy together that wouldn’t involve hearing? Concerts, movies, noisy public places that I now avoided. How I laughed to think such lack of dating, courtship and marriage in my life once had me so suicidal!

Now, I don’t even care. But, who knows? Let it be a “Sleeping Beauty” or “Cinderella” test. Perhaps, one day, a young, active, (sexy) priesthood holding man who desires to be a husband, father and provider will come along. To which I will declare, “He that can lay his hands on my head and, by the power of the priesthood, restore my hearing will be, THE ONE.”

We make plans.

And God laughs.

1/14/2019

Postscript

I am very happy to report that about a month ago (Dec 6, 2018) while returning from a Xmas party with all my best girlfriends I noticed I had gone the entire evening without needed to pull out my earplug and insert it, the music from the radio in the car sounded clearer. Could it be? Was the miracle I had fasted, prayed and spent hours searching the scriptures for comfort, strength and answers finally, FINALLY paying off-was my trial over?

Just got back this evening from a trip to the ENT office where the audiologist gave me a hearing test. My left ear passed! Also, I did something I haven't done in a very long time. I went to the Jordan River Temple. All. By. Myself. I left rejoicing. The new changes made were answers to prayers. For the first time in twenty years of attending the temple as a nevermarried, I am excited to report:

Sisters, it is GOOD to be a (single) woman in God's Kingdom.