Disability means adjusting to new me

It's been a year since I fell into a coma, half a year since surgery to implant a cochlear hearing system, and a few months since restarting this column.

A lot has happened since I started writing again. ...

First was the sense of excitement that I could do it all — everything (or almost everything) I had been doing before becoming totally deaf and unable to walk.

I have learned to walk again and hear again, and I've started writing my column again. But ...

Dizzy me: Facing a computer screen for several hours a day has dramatically increased the dizziness that began after my inner ear suddenly quit a year ago.

Some have suggested that besides staring at a computer screen, deadlines and other work pressures might be contributing to the dizziness, but I don't feel overly pressured.

A physical therapist gave me eye exercises to steady my eyes so I can use them to help me keep my balance. The exercises don't seem to help much, but it may just take more time.

I consulted one of my doctors who told me 99 percent of people in my situation (with zero inner-ear function and zero natural hearing) are in wheelchairs. That was supposed to make me feel better, but instead, it made me realize I'm alone in this effort, and strengthened my resolve to keep trying.

The same doctor suggested that using a computer screen filter to reduce brightness and flicker might help.

So I consulted Apple Computer's display-screen manager, Scott Brodrick, who advised me to change my display's background color to neutral gray and to minimize the number of full white windows I view. He also noted that LCD screens (like mine) have eliminated the flicker that occurs on CRT-based displays.

It turns out that changing my display screen's blue background to gray does seem to help, as does dimming the screen's brightness. So that's something. Onward.

In the process of testing, I tried one of Apple's 20-inch cinema display screens. I like the larger screen because, besides having no flicker, it enables me to easily view two pages side by side. That's particularly helpful when reading my notes and other information on one page while writing on another.

Deaf me: Six months after getting started with a cochlear hearing system, I was feeling a six-month plateau my audiologist had mentioned earlier.

It seemed to me that my hearing was getting worse. Background noise seemed louder, and in talking on the phone, hearing the caller was harder, even though tests indicated my hearing (with the system) was continuing to get better.

So I decided to give the Telecoil setting on my hearing system another chance, hoping I might be able to hear better on the home phone, and to try a Telecoil-equipped cellphone, because a Telecoil cuts out all noise except the caller's voice (and whatever noise surrounds him or her).

Previously, I'd rejected the Telecoil because it meant switching settings on my hearing system, and also because I couldn't hear myself talking when on the Telecoil setting (except on some special phones designed for use with a Telecoil).

Recently, however, the audiologist adjusted my Telecoil setting slightly, so I can hear at least something coming from my own mouth. Now, when I answer the phone, I say "just a sec" and switch to the Telecoil setting before continuing the conversation.

Flash: My most recent phone adventure has been trying a new Sprint LG Fusic cellphone that's noted for its clear voice signal, as well as the top rating (M4) for use with a Telecoil.

I like the Fusic a lot. In fact, I can hear fairly well without switching to the Telecoil setting on my hearing system. So I save the Telecoil for times when it's noisy around me and I need it to block all noise except what comes through the handset.

Wobbly me: With no inner ear to help me balance, walking is sometimes a challenge. Walking on carpet, wood floors and paved walkways I can manage well. But when walking on unfamiliar and uneven surfaces, including dirt paths with rocks, roots and other little obstacles, I need a low-tech helper, like a cane, to stay steady.

Rather than use a standard cane, I prefer a sticklike helper that's aesthetically interesting and, I hope, avoids a standard cane's lame-granny look.

Plus, for times when I don't know if I'll need help walking, a collapsible walking stick would be nice to take along in case I need it.

I found both at www.fashionablecanes.com, received them for my birthday, and now use them fairly often.

A third cane I acquired this summer is a sturdy stick my husband found beside the Sauk River near our cabin. It's a little crooked, bleached by the sun, smoothed by the river and perfect for walking the local trails. This little helper makes me think my wobble is as natural as the woods surrounding me.

The new me: During this past year's life-rattling experiences, a turning point occurred this summer when I finally accepted that my disabilities aren't going to go away, no matter how much I exercise my eyes, alter my computer screen or find the right phone or cane. Those efforts certainly help, and I can improve, but I will never be able to ride a bike, skate, ski or play hopscotch again, at least not with any skill.

I am a different person, and that has been hard to accept. Recovery for me now is all about revising my self-image without losing self-esteem.

Write Linda Knapp at lknapp@seattletimes.com; to read other Getting Started columns, go to: www.seattletimes.com/gettingstarted.