My dream came true

Lela and I are late, as usual.  We’re in a taxi on our way to the clinic when we realise, all of a sudden, that we are heading in the wrong direction.  A friendly argument with the driver—assuring him that, indeed, we know where we are going, and, yes, Tbilisi is a lovely city—and we are back on track after an illegal U-turn.  Crawling at a snail’s pace for the last bit, past street vendors on both sides selling wheels of home-made cheese the size of orchestra cymbals, cabbages piled up to look like pale green pyramids and plucked chickens hanging upside down from their feet like a row of socks on a clothesline, and we are here.  I reach over from the back seat and give the driver ten lari—which was not bad considering his mistake with the address although the sour puss in the rear-view mirror showed me he thought otherwise—and we fly out of the car and up the stairs where Beka and his father are waiting for us inside.

We are at the Japaridze-Kevanishvili Clinic for ear moulds.  I have brought the hearing aids, pages of print-outs ranging from what the experts at Solar Ear in Brazil have told us, directions for the audiologist and, by mistake, my electricity bill which reminds me that I need to stop at the bank on the way home.  The technicians—two grandmotherly types in white laboratory coats and half-glasses sitting behind a desk next to a tall shelf with some books and a bunch of fluffy stuffed toy animals—are stopped in their tracks as I start speaking in Georgian, rattling on about where to pay and how long before they will be ready and joking that the office was as hot as Tashkent in August and it was probably a good idea to open the window.  “Your Georgian is great!,” they said, in turns, as they put a quick setting gel into Beka’s outer ear cavity, one at a time, which will be used as a reverse mould to make a soft plastic plug to seal the ear and provide for better results with the hearing aid.  “You should hear me after a couple glasses of wine,” I replied, as I took the toy mouse from the shelf and put it in Lela’s lap which made her jump in her seat and Beka laugh out loud.

It is Wednesday.  The ear moulds are ready.  We have an appointment with the audiologist for Beka’s fitting and Lela and I are late again.  I have brought the same bagful as last time:  hearing aids, battery chargers, a packet of extra batteries which were tossed in as a donation by our friends in Brazil, translations of the instruction manuals, B vitamins—which help make for healthy ears, so I have learned—and a bunch of bananas for Lela because she has missed lunch helping me to get everything ready.  Beka is there already, wearing the coat and the sneakers we gave him for Christmas, and breaks into a full grin when he sees us.  Gamarjoba!  Rogor khart?  “Hello!  How are you?,” he says as we start climbing the six flights of stairs which are too narrow for my big feet and make me stumble a few times to the amusement of the rest.  “We are here to see Dr Kevanishvili,” Lela says to the receptionist in Georgian, as we get to the top floor and where we need to be.

Ivane Kevanishvili, or Iva for short, is the Managing Director of the Clinic—together with his colleague Shota Japaridze, they are Tbilisi’s best experts in the field of hearing loss and its treatment—and is helping us fit the hearing aids.  “It is going to be a long process,” explains Kevanishvili after learning Beka’s history of being without any sort of treatment for so long.  “He will need time to hear and recognise sounds again.  Some, like the noises of different things outside, like on a busy street, for example, he has never heard before.  Some of the particularly Georgian sounds, the sharp ones, will be difficult at first.  It is a process.  And it will be frustrating from the beginning.  But it is a process.  And in the end, it is all going to work out fine.”

 

Before long, Kevanishvili has the hearing aids on Beka’s ears and starts asking him questions about the sounds he is hearing for the first time in a long time.  The expression on his face says more than any words could as the silence turns into sounds with the flip of a switch and the proper adjustments and fine-tuning.  “How is it?  Too loud?  Too quiet?  Repeat after me,” he says as he starts counting in Georgian, erti, ori, sami… shvidi.  “Say the words I say as you hear them.”  Beka is speaking and answering the questions without hesitation.  Kevanishvili moves to stand behind him so that there is no lip reading to confuse actual hearing.  “Repeat after me,” he says again, as he starts counting.  Beka repeats but there are some small mistakes in pronunciation and some missed numbers.  “You see?,” says Kevanishvili.  “He’s relied on his eyes for so long to understand what people are saying.  He will have to train, now, to hear the sounds.  Not see them.”

It is later that night.  I am brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed when my mobile telephone beep-beeps with an incoming text message.  “Thank you for making my dream come true,” it reads in Georgian.  Of course, it is from Beka.  “Now, I can hear what people are saying.  On my own.  With no one having to help me.  Hope to see you soon.”

See you soon.  Indeed.

New Generation Georgia is committed to helping Beka continue to move forward in leaving the silence behind.  We are very grateful to everyone involved in meeting our first two targets of the round-one medical treatment and the purchase and fitting of the hearing aids.  Please join us in our project as you can.  All donations will be gratefully received and acknowledged.  As always, any alternative ideas or suggestions for meeting the next targeted interventions will be more than welcomed.  Follow us, too, on Facebook (New Generation Georgia) and Twitter (newgenerationge).

What we need:

Target 1:  USD 500 for speech therapy (three-month period and including travel of a specialist from Tbilisi)

Target 2:  USD 150 for medication (round-two of preventative treatment and rehabilitative therapy)

Target 3:  USD 20,000 for cochlear implant surgery (for one ear, based upon consultation with local surgeon)

*  *  *  *  *

“Hello!  Thank you, I am fine.”  It is a few words from Beka in reply to my daily text messages to check up on him since the hearing aids have been in place.  “I am doing what the doctor said.  Today, it is better.”  I write back immediately, although having to pull out the dictionary for a couple of words.  “Every day will get better,” I start, “and you have a whole team, in five countries, with you to help.”  I am reminded again that I have the best friends in the world.

BANK DONATIONS:

Bank of Georgia
Tbilisi, Georgia
Account Number:  176560200
SWIFT:  BAGAGE22
Beneficiary:  Jeffrey Morski
Notation:  New Generation Georgia, name, surname, home city

PayPal:

newgenerationgeorgia@europe.com
Notation:  New Generation Georgia, name, surname, home city