Reversing hearing loss with a cochlear implant​​

EXPLORING COCHLEAR IMPLANTS ​​I didn’t need an audiologist to tell me that hearing aids could no longer help me. Yet I hesitated. I hated the idea of clunky hardware hanging from my ear,

feared surgery so close to my brain (even if peripheral), worried about reports of post-op vertigo or infections. I was particularly adamant about keeping whatever hearing remained in my

weaker ear. Surgeons can preserve the residual hearing of some patients, but what about mine? What if my surgery failed and I had forfeited my lingering decibels? ​​ Nobody could reliably

predict what sounds my implant would produce — near normal or annoyingly mechanical, as I had read. Would my husband, my friends, my grandkids sound like Donald Duck? There is no sure

answer. Each implant patient adjusts differently and hears uniquely.​​ I delayed surgery, until the residual hearing I so valued had plummeted to near zero. My husband and I concluded I had

little to lose and a lot to gain. I would go for it.​ RELEARNING HOW TO HEAR ​​ COCHLEAR IMPLANTS: HOW THEY WORK The processor and microphone sit behind the ear and send sound to electrodes

implanted in the cochlea. Those electrodes bypass the cilia and convey signals directly to the auditory nerve, which relays the message to the brain.​​ Diagram key: ​1. Transmitter​ 2.

Implant​ 3. Microphone ​4. Processor ​5. Battery Pack​ 6. Ear Canal​ 7. Eardrum​ 8. Inner Ear ​9. Auditory Nerve​ 10. Electrodes ​11. Cochlea​​ Brown Bird Design In the spring of 2019, I

learned from an evaluation at NYU Langone’s implant center why I was a good candidate for the surgery: The key predictor of success is a healthy, active auditory nerve. I had started to lose

my hearing only about a dozen years earlier, and because I had worn hearing aids, my auditory nerve was still working. If the auditory nerve is dysfunctional, as it usually is in those long

deaf, it cannot send sound signals to the brain. (Many private insurers and Medicare cover implant surgery if hearing aids are inadequate, so candidates must first undergo tests to assess

their hearing and speech comprehension, and the condition of their middle ear and cochlea.)​​ In September 2019, at age 73, I underwent surgery. My worse (left) ear would get the implant,

and I would continue to wear a hearing aid in my right.​​ The procedure went smoothly. Roland, using less risky local rather than general anesthesia, made a small incision behind my left

ear, inserted a magnet and a receiver-stimulator into my head, and threaded my implant’s 22 electrodes into my cochlea. The cochlea is a snail-like bone lined with thousands and thousands of

hair cells (cilia), which are damaged in deaf people. I was home in a few hours, the post-op pain was minor, the incision healed quickly and is barely visible today. No vertigo, no

infection.​​ My NYU Langone audiologist, Nathalie Chouery, gave me the external parts of the implant system: a sound-receiving gizmo that curls around my ear like a large hearing aid; it

contains a microphone, sound processor and battery. A thin wire connects the processor to a disc-shaped magnet that attaches to the magnet inside my head, to complete the circuit. The

external parts are easily removed when I sleep, shower or swim.​ How does it work? In a healthy ear, the cochlea’s hair cells transmit sound to the auditory nerve, but that’s impossible when

the hair cells are injured. With a CI, the sound processor and microphone on my ear collect sound and send it to the implant’s electrodes. They convey signals to the auditory nerve, which

relays the message to my brain. The brain interprets the message as sound — eventually. ​ Two weeks after surgery, Chouery activated and programmed my implant. The moment of truth. She hit

the equivalent of the “power on” button, and I heard my first new sounds. Oh my. What sounds they were: roaring air, clangs, whistles and a mumble of unintelligible speech. My brain had to

adjust — not my ear but my brain.​