On September 21st, my life shifted in one instant. I woke at 1:30 a.m. unable to hear out of my
left ear. What I hoped was wax buildup quickly turned into a diagnosis of sudden sensorineural
hearing loss — a rare and frightening condition that affects only 20 in 100,000 people.
The days that followed were some of the hardest I’ve ever lived. Everyday sounds became
distorted and overwhelming. I couldn’t hear the wind in the trees, my son playing guitar, or the
voices of my family sitting right in front of me. Music felt painful. Grocery stores felt
impossible. The ringing, the fear, the uncertainty — it all became consuming. I wondered how I
could work, how I could care for patients, and whether my life would ever feel normal again.
A week later, while visiting my son at the University of Oregon, I broke down in the middle of a
grocery store because the noise was too much to bear. My son looked at me calmly and said,
“Mom, this will get better. You have so much to be grateful for.” His words stopped me. I
realized I had been focusing only on the fear — and as I often tell my patients, what you focus
on expands.
So I shifted. Slowly. Imperfectly. But intentionally.
I went back to the foundations I teach every day: gratitude, mindset, nourishment, rest, and trust
in the body’s healing wisdom. I meditated twice daily, practiced gentle yoga, held my husband’s
hand longer, sat with my sweet dog Brittany, and let myself breathe. I nourished my body with
whole foods, avoided sugar and alcohol, and leaned into every supportive therapy available —
acupuncture, hyperbaric oxygen therapy, and inner-ear steroid injections.
I kept reminding myself: Everything happens for me, not to me. My body knows how to heal.
And then, on November 12th — after weeks of uncertainty, surrender, and faith — my hearing
returned. Fully.
This experience humbled me. It reminded me that healing is rarely linear and always layered. It
taught me to slow down, to be present, and to treasure the everyday miracles we so often
overlook.
I’m walking forward with a renewed sense of gratitude — for sound, for silence, for breath,
for my family, for all of you, and for this extraordinary gift of life.