Page 87 of Give Me a Sign
“They’re good, but they’re no M and M chocolate.”
“If you say so.” We sit in a comfortable silence, huddled together. “Should we go to the dining hall?” I ask reluctantly, but I’m sure he wants to meet up with the others.
“In a minute.” He wraps an arm around me, and we stay right where we are. “I missed you, too,” he signs finally.
Chapter Twenty-seven
To celebrateIsaac’s return, the entire staff gathers to make s’mores at the campfire after hours.
With things smoothed out with Natasha, I realize there’s still something important I need to ask her about, since she’s the only counselor with a cochlear implant. I need more insight into what it’s like to have one before Max needs to make the decision.
Ethan already told me some of Natasha’s experience, but I want to learn from her why she got the implant. It seems rare that her entire family is Deaf, but she chose to have the surgery. Deaf families are usually excited when their children are like them, but often they give birth to hearing children, like Mackenzie’s college friend, who is a CODA. So most of the kids I know with implants have hearing parents.
Natasha is standing opposite the campfire from me. I inch my marshmallow farther into the flames and wave to get herattention. “Can I ask...” I say, then make my way around the fire to sit with her. “Why did you get your cochlear implant?” I say and sign one-handed. I’m immediately terrified of the look on her face, so I quickly add, “My parents think my brother needs one.”
“No one needs one,” she signs, with the emphasis on the word “needs.” She pulls back her stick to inspect her marshmallow.
“Take a video of Max when he tries it on!” Mackenzie chimes in. “Have you seen those ‘baby hears for the first time’ videos?”
“I hate those,” Natasha says and signs, wanting to make sure we follow her crystal clear. She takes a deep breath. “A cochlear implant doesn’t fix everything. It’s a surgical procedure after which I had to train my brain how to hear the world. My hearing isn’t magically restored the same as a hearing person’s.”
Mackenzie slumps forward, letting her marshmallow burn. “When you put it that way,” she says and signs. “I should have assumed as much, honestly. If you dislike it so much, why did you get it?” I’m glad Mackenzie’s here to ask the tough questions for me.
Natasha takes a deep breath. “A few years back, I got really fed up with the world. My entire family is Deaf—mother, father, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. Everyone. Some could use hearing aids, but they don’t often wear them and communicate only with sign. Very proud to be Deaf, as they should be.”
She pauses and looks at me. “Right,” I sign, not wanting to interrupt her story.
“But I was so frustrated everywhere I went,” Natasha says. “How I was so dependent on interpreters. How people treat usdifferently. And when my dad had to go to the hospital... that was the last straw for me.”
Isaac returns from assembling his own s’more. “Talking about your implant?” he asks Natasha. I take his appearance as an excuse to step over to the supplies and quickly put together my s’more as well.
Natasha resumes. “I wanted greater independence and at the time thought this was the way to get it. But when I decided to do it, my family got mad—my dad, especially. He said I’d no longer be Deaf enough. Always going on about ‘we can do anything but hear.’ To him, my wanting something to help me hear was a betrayal.”
“But you’re still Deaf,” I say and sign. I know I’m constantly worried about not feeling “Deaf enough,” but I don’t understand how it’s possible that Natasha does as well.
“You’re still Deaf,” Isaac signs at the same time.
“I know,” Natasha continues. “And even with the cochlear, I need interpreters. Sure, I can ‘hear better’ now, but still not well enough to go without my other resources. And recovery was difficult after the surgery. I was worried it had failed. Sometimes these implants don’t work. It could still potentially fail. But I recovered from the procedure, and my dad got nicer about my decision, although still very ‘I told you so.’ I’ve gotten used to hearing a bit more of the world around me, but I don’t wear the processor all the time, preferring the quiet. But until this world gets a lot more deaf-friendly, I guess I’m glad I have it as an option.”
I know exactly what she means. “So does that mean you’re glad you got it?”
She scrunches up her mouth. “To be honest, if I could go back and do it all over again, I don’t think I would get it.”
“Really?” Mackenzie asks.
Natasha shrugs. “I’ve got it now, so I might as well use it when I want.” She looks at me. “I don’t know. What does your brother think?”
“I’m not sure,” I say and sign. “I need to talk to him about it.”
Natasha agrees, signing emphatically. “So many kids are implanted super young, without consent.”
Isaac turns. “Your brother?”
“His left ear could use a cochlear implant now,” I sign.
“Teach him ASL,” Isaac signs. “Like we did with baseball.”
“I’m still learning myself,” I sign.
