A Student in Transition, Making Sense of it All
Best news on Earth ever!
It’s as good as it’s going to get. I’ve gone from moderate to severe hearing loss in my right ear to mild hearing loss. And now, because there isn’t a hole in my ear drum, I can get my ear wet! Yes, I can finally take a shower without wearing earplugs!
I’ve been wearing earplugs while showing and swimming for as long as I can remember - my entire life. Tonight, I’ll try to take my first shower without an earplug. It’s both terrifying and liberating.
I went to visit my surgeon yesterday. After a quick hearing test, he has determined that I’m hearing better than I did before the surgery (February 27, 2008). The ear drum is looking good, I have to keep putting drops in it twice a day for the next two weeks, and I still can’t expose the ear to water. I’ll see him again in four weeks.
Monday was my first day back in my Gym class. Admittedly, I’m not the most athletic person, but I’m so happy to be back. For each day I sat out from Gym, I had to write a one page paper on a topic related to athletics, fitness, or health. I didn’t mind at first, but after the forth week I grew tired of the practice. Getting to go back to class with my friends and play kickball outside was wonderful!
My hearing is slowly getting better. Sounds are less sharp than they used to be, but I have a way to go. Higher-pitched sounds and my own yelling bring pain to my ear, but the surgeon told me that my nerve is still getting used to the amplified sounds. Remember, the problem with my right ear was a hole in the ear drum. The nerve that carries the sound information to my brain is in great condition, but it’s been accustomed to much softer sounds than what I’m hearing now. It’s overwhelmed.
This is all great news and reason for me to celebrate. I’m overjoyed, really. 
Visited my surgeon today; he delivered powerful news.
Your ear drum is intact.
My surgeon believes I’m coming along well. He took the last of the packing out from my ear canal with a pick and vacuum. The sensations were both painful and gratifying, knowing that I’m hopefully moving forward.
Sounds are louder now. Unfortunately, they’re loud as they are unclear and unintelligible. I feel like there’s a reverb filter installed in my head.
This is okay, I’ve been told. The ear drum is still healing and there’s some left over packing behind the ear drum that my surgeon cannot remove himself. The ear drops I’ve been using several times a day should dissolve that packing over time.
Progress.
Rough weeks trigger lengthy and significant blog posts, it turns out.
Due to many personal stresses, including recent developments on the college admissions front, I have dug myself into a temporary sadness and a currently persisting physical sickness. I’ve spent my weekend trying to nurse myself back to happiness and health; my attempts have had variable success. If you’ll bear with me though this lengthy post, I’ve reached a turning point that I’d like to share with you. I’ll break down the recent events of my life and try to tie them together.
This last Thursday marked “100 days” left until my high school graduation, an event I’m eagerly dreading. I haven’t been an officer for my class in two years due to taking a position as Student Council President, but I’ve always offered my support. On account of this, I was pleased when I was asked to put together a slideshow of photographs consisting of members of my class. This slideshow was to be shown at a breakfast to celebrate the number of days left until graduation.
Although I’m glad I put it together, it was a very difficult process. Scanning photos with my friend Matt took hours, and cropping them into a slideshow was tedious. More than that, though, I saw pictures of my friends and acquittances as they grew up, all together, in this small town. It hardly felt fair for me to put the presentation together, seeing as though I had only lived in this town for six years of the twelve years of public education. It was an emotional hurdle I hadn’t anticipated.
Regardless, the breakfast ceremony wasn’t a disaster. In fact, it’s had me thinking about my future. My class’ officers asked a few influential teachers and faculty members to say a few words at the ceremony. One of those people gave us this wisdom about Dover Plains:
You guys all know that there’s nothing for you here. Get out, come back, and tell us how you did. Make us all proud.
I’ve known this for years. The town I live in, unfortunately, is a dead end. Regardless, I love it to death. I even wrote one of my essays for MIT on it, and truly meant every touching word I said. (I’m considering posting that essay on the blog. Let me know if you’re interested.)
What the speaker said had me think about all of the work I’ve done to try to improve Dover High School. I’ve had successes due to hard work, and I’ve had failures due to improper planning, the actions of others, and the bureaucracy characteristic of a public school.
I have a few projects, “unfinished business”, on my list of “help Dover” endeavors. Recently, I’ve been wondering whether or not to scrap that list. I’ve gone through the system and put in more work and hours than most people do. I’ve been thinking, why not just let it rest?
I can’t let it rest. I’ve gone through my time at Dover High School believing that I must always try to make the environment better for the next person. It’s the idea that’s defined my career thus far, and I can’t quit now. It’s why I’m alive, isn’t it? I’ll have some interesting stories involving my final hurrah to share, I bet.
In the midst of my normal routine, I’ve been wondering if or when I’ll claim an unknown “amount” of hearing back after my surgery almost one month ago. Since my last appointment with my surgeon, when he took a lot of “packing” out of my ear, I’ve been picking up high-pitch sounds, like a female’s voice. The sensations are very sharp and painful, but I expect them to get better.
It’s been my March Resolution to dedicate myself to healing. I haven’t done that as well as I would have liked to. My “can do” lifestyle hasn’t been kind to me, but I’ve been trying to adjust.
In the last week and a half, I was accepted to Lafayette and RPI. Lafayette’s acceptance letter didn’t come with a complete financial aid package; the big envelope only delivered the news that I had been selected to receive the school’s highest merit scholarship, the Marquis Scholarship. RPI’s letter came with a financial aid package that I consider to be lackluster.
Last Thursday, as I was about to start my last hurrah on the Senior Slideshow, my Mom gave me a letter from MIT - a small envelope. My heartbeat instantly quickened as I rushed to open the letter which I knew would bring me bad news. It started:
We have finished the selection process for MIT’s Class of 2012, and while we are unable to offer you admission at this time, we have placed you on our Wait List.
That was my bitter introduction to the proper noun, “Wait List”. The remainder of the letter told me I could either choose to remain on or withdraw from the list.
I’ve come this far, so I’ve decided to stay. Although I know the odds are impossibly small, I would never forgive myself if I didn’t stick around to see what happens.
I’ve had a frustrating week, one which has plunged me into feeling ill. If you’ve been monitoring my presence online, I haven’t been overwhelming positive. The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated, and I hope to play my cards the best I can. Essentially, I’m not really going to change anything in my life right now. I’m just going to keep going, doing my best. It’s a very faux turning point, isn’t it?
Just bare with me as I get back on my feet. It’s easier to write a blog post than to put thought into action, but it’s a step.
Another thought: A huge thanks to the people who have given me their kind words while I’ve been working through this.
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