Page 92 of Every Good Thing
She’s like medicine finally hitting my system, easing the pain and pressure.
A light rap on the door ends our moment.
They enter, bringing a mood that makes everything feel quiet and discontented. I sit in the exam chair, and Lena takes my side, resting her hand comfortably on my shoulder.
Dr. Lin glances at the file he carries but then tosses it on the counter. “Ben, there’s no easy way—”
“Just say it,” I interject.
“Your hearing number is seventy-six.” He makes eye contact, saying the words slowly so nothing is lost on me. Then, he looks to Lena. “That’s significantly worse than our last check and only a few decibels from profound hearing loss. With the migraines and now the balance issues—”
Lena’s arm tightens against my shoulders—she doesn’t know about that. Another omission.
“Surgery is our next best option, and your tests indicate that you’re an excellent candidate.”
“Cochlear implants?” Lena says, her voice thankfully absent of emotion. “Can you explain what’s involved with that option?”
Dr. Lin breaks out his ear chart and details the procedure—ENTs love their charts. It’s a routine outpatient surgery with minimal risk.
“Once the internal implants heal,” Janice chimes in, “we’ll turn his devices on, and I’ll work with Ben to learn how to interpret the sounds.”
“What do you mean?” Lena asks.
“I’ll have to relearn how to hear,” I say. “It won’t be the same as normal hearing.”
“But it will be better than hearing aids in the long term,” Dr. Lin adds.
Lena’s arm tightens again. “How long will it take to get used to the implants?”
Janice and Dr. Lin share a look—they know this is a sticking point for me, even more than the idea of implanting magnets in my skull.
He says, “Six months to a year.”
“I see… What are his other options?”
Dr. Lin shrugs. “Status quo—continue with the hearing aids indefinitely and manage the migraines and balance issues with medication. The deterioration could level out, and your symptoms appear manageable.”
Lena shakes her head. “Ben deserves better than manageable. What else?”
Dr. Lin puts up his hands. “When his hearing aids fail to help, he could accept deafness. That should reduce the migraines and balance issues naturally. You’ve already acquired many skills—ASL, reading lips and facial cues. It might mean a career shift, but people do it all the time.”
Lena’s eyes land on mine, sizing me up.
But I’m a stone. None of this is news to me.
Outside in the sunlight again, Lena takes my hand as we stroll toward the Jeep. I expect a thousand questions, but she only has one.
“Want to go to lunch?”
I take her to a downtown restaurant, and we sit outside, facing the Riverwalk and overlooking the Cape Fear River. She mentions our first date away from Saddletree—a night branded into my existence so deeply that it’s legend. I knew long before then that I loved her. But her unequivocal acceptance that night solidified it.
I close my eyes and still see her adoring expression when she took in my scars the first time. She loved me, no matter what. When I die, that’s the memory I want to go out on.
She made a promise that night. Whatever your reality, I’m with you, and I’ll try to make it better.
Today, her promise feels reaffirmed.
We spend our lunch discussing Ruthie and Saddletree. Lena gushes excitedly as she outlines the changes she’s implemented. I love seeing her like this. It reminds me of Saddletree’s early days, when she operated on hope and creativity and loved lassoing me into her decisions. She ran everything by me then, not because she needed to—she wanted to. We were partners.
