Eight years ago, my world changed.
After more than two decades of total silence in my left ear, I heard again—not through the memory of what sound used to be, and not through the dull amplification of hearing aids, but through something extraordinary: a cochlear implant. I still remember the date—March 9, 2017—my switch-on day. It marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another I never thought possible.
This post is a reflection. A look back on what it’s really like to live with a cochlear implant eight years on. The highs, the hurdles, and the moments that caught me off guard—in the best possible way. If you’re thinking about getting a CI, supporting someone who is, or just curious, I hope my story gives you something real to hold onto.
Before the Implant: Navigating Asymmetrical Hearing Loss
To keep myself sane during the COVID lockdowns, I poured my story into a five-part blog series, but if I had to sum it up… my hearing loss began in my teens and crept forward like a shadow, until one day it wasn’t creeping anymore— it had pounced, and it had taken over.
For 26 years, my left ear heard nothing. My right ear soldiered on, barely managing with the help of a hearing aid. I adapted—lip reading, body language, positioning myself just right in conversations. But truthfully, I was mostly faking it. I had become a master of pretending I was coping, when inside I was constantly playing catch-up, constantly exhausted.
When I lost hearing in my left ear, I was told a cochlear implant wasn’t an option. The advice was well-meaning, but devastating: “Your brain won’t cope with the imbalance between the ears.” And I believed it. I clung to that belief for years, thinking this was as good as it would ever get for me.
It wasn’t until I changed careers—moving into Audiometry—and had some wonderfully persistent audiologist mentors that I was finally encouraged to reconsider. They saw what I couldn’t. And slowly, I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was still a way forward.
Surgery and Switch-On: A Leap Into the Unknown
The surgery itself was uneventful, thanks to the incredible care I received from my surgeon, Dr Claire Iseli, and my audiologist, Hayley. But emotionally? That was a whole different story.
I remember lying awake the night before switch-on, filled with so many what-ifs.
What if it doesn’t work? What if all I hear is static? What if I’ve made it worse?
But when Hayley activated the device on March 9, I wasn’t overwhelmed by sound—I was overwhelmed by possibility. At first, everything was robotic and strange. My kids’ voices, the rustle of paper, the sound of a pen clicking—it all sounded artificial, like a 90s video game soundtrack. But my brain, that incredible machine, slowly began to sort it all out.
Adapting to a New Way of Hearing
The first few months were surreal. I had to learn how to trust sound again. How to tell speech apart from noise. How to make sense of frequencies I hadn’t heard in decades. But I kept at it.
If I were an athlete, the level of training I put myself through would’ve been Olympic-worthy. I pushed myself hard—mentally, emotionally, and physically. There were times I was completely spent. But every bit of that effort mattered. I wrote about this in my post “How Pennywise the Dancing Clown Helped Me Hear Again”—because, yes, even horror pop culture characters played a role in my auditory training!
One moment that stands out vividly happened on a walk home through a park opposite the clinic where I worked. I’d done this walk a hundred times. But one day, it hit me—I could hear birds. Not just one kind of chirp… but five. Five distinct species, each singing their own song, all coming from different directions. I stopped in my tracks. For the first time in decades, I was hearing in glorious spatially surround sound. That moment… that was magic.
And music? Music became a doorway to something deeper. It felt layered again. Emotional. Even the rain sounded different. Immersive. Alive. I wrote more about these experiences in my post “How My Cochlear Implant Gave Me Back My Groove.”
Life Now — Eight Years Later
Eight years on, my cochlear implant is simply part of me. Like the ear it has replaced—it’s there, every day, helping me connect, work, live, and love more fully.
Conversations are clearer. Noisy cafés don’t rattle me like they used to. Group chats, which once felt isolating, now feel inclusive. Professionally, it’s been a gift—I can speak with both clinical knowledge and lived experience, which has deepened the way I support others as an audiometrist.
There are still things to manage—device maintenance, occasional mapping tweaks—but those are small trade-offs compared to what I’ve gained.
To quote an aspiring (and currently unnamed) musician who never dreamed he would ever be able to enjoy music let alone create it
“I wear my gear like a battle scar. I’m wired for thunder. I’m a rock star.”
Unexpected Lessons and Insights
Here’s the truth I didn’t see coming: regaining sound didn’t just reconnect me to the world… it reconnected me to myself.
I remembered who I was before hearing loss became the loudest voice in my story. I rediscovered confidence. Joy. Curiosity. The cochlear implant didn’t just change how I heard—it changed how I felt.
It’s also given me a deeper empathy. I know what it’s like to feel afraid, to question your identity, to wonder if anyone truly understands. That’s why I share my story. That’s why I advocate. That’s why I’ll never stop helping others find their way forward.
Because this isn’t just about me anymore.
This is about showing people that there is life after deaf.
That your biggest weakness can become your greatest strength.
That you are not alone.
To Anyone Considering a Cochlear Implant
If you’re scared, that’s okay. I was too. Fear is normal. But don’t let it be the reason you stop moving forward.
Cochlear implants aren’t a “cure”—they don’t restore hearing exactly as it was. But they offer something else. They offer access—to sound, to connection, to life. And for many of us, that’s more than enough.
Talk to your audiologist. Ask the awkward questions. Find people who’ve walked the road before you. You don’t have to do this alone.
Looking Ahead
I’m excited about the future—smarter processors, better batteries, clearer sound. But more than that, I’m excited to keep growing. To keep sharing. To keep turning my story into something that might help someone else.
Because this isn’t just my story anymore—it’s one that echoes through countless others.
Final Thoughts
Eight years on, I’m still in awe of what my cochlear implant has given me. Not just sound—but hope. It hasn’t always been easy. But it’s always, always been worth it.
If you’ve got questions, if you want to share your own experience, or if you just need someone to listen—I’m here. Leave a comment. Reach out. Let’s keep this conversation going.
Together, we can show the world what it means to truly hear again.
Talking Hearing Loss 
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