She can once again hear the voices of her loved ones
We take our senses for granted. We all do. Those of us who can hear, smell, taste, see and feel, never think twice about how any one step in the development of any one of those special sensory organs would leave us deaf, blind or anosmic for life. We go on with our daily lives taking such gifts for granted. Most of us only think of it when one of those senses stop sensing. Mostly in our forties when our intraocular muscles throw in their towels and stop focusing as well as they used to, or in our sixties when our cochleas do the same and we find it harder to listen to that young chap singing his heart out on Sirasa Superstar.
All smiles: Apoorva with her mother
There is however, a darker side to this. To have had and lost is one thing. To never have had experienced a sense to begin with is a completely different level of deprivation. Being in the ENT unit at Kalubowila, I have seen my share of people who are deprived of hearing. I deal with old grannies and grandpas who simply want to hear their favourite radio programme better. But the patient who moved me the most was not one of them. She didn’t even consult me in our clinic.
It was at home on a Sunday, while I was washing and waxing my beloved car, that someone rang the doorbell. Outside was a mother with a little girl who looked no older than 10. With an appeal and a piece of paper. “Beggars,” thought I. “What new scheme had they thought up this time?” Never one to turn someone down, I listened to her plea. This was not the average Johnny who knocks on your shutter window at the traffic lights and shamelessly dangles a dislocated limb at your clemency. There was desperation in this mother’s eyes. More than that, there was a fierce determination. The way in which she spoke, her demeanour all suggested to me that she had been through hell, and was willing to walk it all over again for the love of her child. Besides, it was right down my alley. It seemed they wanted a hearing aid, so I let them in. I let her speak.
Soon I unearthed that this little girl, Apoorva Sewwandi, was 13 years old. Her mother had contracted rubella during the pregnancy, and through no fault of her own, Apoorva came into this world completely deaf. There was nothing they could do. No medicine, no ayurvedic pattu and guli that would cure this. Their only hope was a cochlear implant surgery.
This was 2001, and it was a time when cochlear implant hearing aids were not available in Sri Lanka. Apoorva’s parents, being from a low income family, mortgaged everything they owned to take her to India for the surgery that would help their daughter hear. With a supreme effort of will and determination they raised the funds necessary for this, and in 2004 she received her cochlear implant. Apoorva heard a sound for the first time in her life. She experienced a hitherto unknown sensation to her.
She heard her mother call her name.
But that was a decade ago. At a time when cochlear implant technology had not yet arrived in Sri Lanka. Now, her external audio processing unit had lived its life, and was beyond servicing. Without this unit, the cochlear implant was useless, as it needs this device to function. The cost of a replacement was an astronomical Rs. 950,000. Way beyond the reach of these folk, who were just ridding themselves of the debt they owed for the cochlear implantation procedure. The President’s Fund, which usually allocates Rs. 250,000 for instances such as this, had refused to support her, citing the fact that if she could afford a surgery in India then she doesn’t need a government subsidy. The myopia of that statement left me in wonder, as I don’t see what other options this family had, when the procedure in question was not available in Sri Lanka at the time it was done!
Without this device, Apoorva was deaf again. She couldn’t go to school, and if no replacement was found soon, she would have to revert to a special needs school. Which, on top of the trauma of changing schools, would be hell on earth for a deaf girl who didn’t know sign language at the age of 13.
What would we be without sound? Without the voices of our parents in our early years? Just imagine a world completely silent. No birds in the morning, no voices, no music, nothing. And in her case, a hearing impairment from birth meant she would not be able to speak as well. How can you phonate when you haven’t heard a blessed word? We depend on sound so much to enrich our lives. It’s such an integral part of our life.
I wanted to help, but I’m a government servant. Not a rich man with millions lying at leisure. With an intent to help her in any capacity that I could, I set out to appeal to the most generous people that I know. My friends from College, and my fellow car enthusiasts.
The response was overwhelming. My initial goal was Rs. 50,000, but that was surpassed within 24 hours. Donation after donation poured in from all corners of the globe. From Texas to Tasmania, Old Thomians, family friends and my fellow petrolheads opened their wallets and gave generously. Word was spread amongst their work and family circles and Apoorva’s cause was championed around the world.
In a month, I managed to raise the entire sum required for this device, and today Apoorva is all smiles with a brand new audio processing unit in her ear. She wears it with the same zest that any other teenager would don a pair of headphones and listen to 1 Direction sing their pasty songs. She is all smiles and delighted that she can hear again.
I too am equally delighted. At what this little girl hasn’t yet grasped. This means that now she can lead a normal life. She can hear the voices of her parents, her teachers. She can continue to learn in a normal school, talk and listen to her friends as any normal person her age would do, and most importantly, lead a normal life. At least for another 10 years, she has that luxury.
And for this, I am thankful to everyone who donated. You have, with your generosity, given her the greatest gift of all.
(The writer is attached to the Otorhinolaryngology (ENT) unit, Colombo South Teaching Hospital)