When Alice was assessed for her CI, she was subjected to a whole battery of tests to check that all else was well. Everything seemed ok, although her eye tests showed she had a slight astigmatism in both her eyes. This is not, we were told, uncommon for children of her age and she would most likely outgrow it, but we should get it checked in six months time.

Six months was up today.

To cut a long story short, the testing and subsequent converstation did not go well. Alice still has her astigmatism and she is allegedly, and on the basis of some fairly rudimentary testing, slightly long- sighted.

“So if you’d like to go and wait outside we will get her some glasses made up”

Excuse me? A simultaneous and rather terse No! was the response from Mummy and I. Does anyone else want to clamp anything to poor Alice’s head for God’s sake?

The ensuing converstion with the optometrist was, shall we say, rather lively. She clearly did not understand the implications of a CI for Alice or anyone for that matter and, more importantly, the pressures it puts on her already, particularly at this key time.  I have nothing against Alice wearing glasses and, if it proves necessary in due course, she will no doubt do so, but not now. She has enough on her plate already.

In an effort to convince us, the optometrist set out to contradict herself on every point as to whether glasses were actually necessary or not. We were particularly impressed when told that if we didn’t do anything now, Alice would not be able to drive and might not be able to pursue certain careers. For Christ’s sake – Alice is two and a quarter and until four months ago couldn’t hear anything – have you never heard of perspective and priorities?

Anyhow, we will be going back in three months to no doubt tell them where to stick their glasses again. I shall make sure I have had a good breakfast that day.

On a more positive note, Alice continues to progress well. She was at AV again this afternoon with the wonderful Catherine. Catherine seems pleased with Alice’s progress and Alice seems to love her sessions there. More importantly, the messages and exercises we take home have brought the best out in Alice and, I am convinced, are reponsible for her amazing progress thus far. Sadly, Catherine is off on maternity leave for 12 months as of tomorrow, but Alice had the honour of being her last session before she leaves. We will both really miss her, but look forward to wowing her next year when she gets back. Thank you so much for all you have done for us and we wish you and your new baby all the best. We couldn’t have got this far without you.

Any journey has ups and downs, peaks and troughs. What I have found with Alice’s incredible journey thus far is that the peaks are so high it makes your head spin and the troughs have you reaching for that second bottle of Chablis that you know you neither need nor can your health justify.

When Alice is doing well, and by that I mean visibly progressing on an almost daily basis, it is all going to be ok. The fears about school, her future, her hapiness all disappear and the smile is hard to wipe from our faces. Then there are the times when it doesn’t seem to go so well. When Alice is too stubborn to play ball or some connection in her head hasn’t quite developed yet and her progress is halted. Add to this that, despite the phenomenal amount of time and money we have devoted to specialists, they don’t always seem to help and the whole house of cards can come tumbling down.

Yesterday afternoon I think I hit my lowest point so far. As Alice’s Mummy mentioned, until Alice’s hearing feedback loop is fully developed, her speech will not come on as fast as we or she would like. As a result, we have seen very little progress over the past couple of weeks. Her hearing and listening continue to improve to the point that, practically speaking, life has windows of being almost ‘normal’. We had spent the entire afternoon at one of Alice’s specialist centres and my patience finally ran out. Why are we here? What are you doing for Alice? Are you just making this up as you go along, because that’s how it feels?

The journey home was long and painful with many tears of anger and frustration held back on the way.

We knew this was how it was going to be, but I don’t think anything prepares you for just how low it makes you feel when you hit the buffers. On the positive side, I have not met a single CI parent who doesn’t regail you with stories of their own ups and downs, but by God the downs are hard.

What’s worse is that it can change on an almost daily basis. You can go from swimming in the glee of sucess to drowning in the depths of despair all within the space of 24 hours. I’m beginning to feel a little bipolar.

Nobody said it would be easy. We never expected it to be so, but nothing can prepare you for the physical and, more importantly, emotional journey that CIs throw at you.