MUSIC AND ITS POWER
Mercer Borden
Hi, I’m Mercer. Some of you might recognize me as the guy who plays the music in the student section, or maybe we’ve crossed paths in a class together, on the lacrosse field, or in the hallway. The road to becoming the guy you see in the photo has been a bumpy one. I am a musician. I’m sure that each of you has some sort of relationship with music, whether it be because you listen to it in the car on the way to school, your parents forced you to take lessons as a kid, or because you honestly prefer listening to music more than hearing people talk. For me, I love everything about music. I love how it sounds, how it feels when I play, and most importantly, how it has helped me overcome the major obstacles I have faced in my life - including my hearing loss.
The obstacles started the day I was born. Shortly upon arrival, doctors noticed bruising caused by a clogged tear duct under my left eye, which landed me in the NICU for 4 days. The NICU, or neonatal intensive care unit, is where newborns go if there are any serious issues that need to be looked at. Doctors who are specialized for different parts of the body are all pulled in to look at everything. While examining me, they discovered a growth in the left side of my throat. By the time I was 2, I'd had 2 surgeries on my throat to remove that growth. Then, during one of my semi-annual follow-ups, my throat doctor noticed that my eardrum was collapsed, and I needed “tubes”. Tubes are actually not that uncommon - some of you may have had them. Essentially, microscopic tubes are placed in the eardrum to connect the middle ear to the outer ear in order to relieve pressure or drain fluids that might cause ear infections or difficulty hearing.
At about 3 years old, my parents noticed that something was different about me compared to the other kids, as if they didn't already have enough examples. I was always banging around and making noise, but not in the way any other three year old does when they need something; it was rhythmic. Obviously, no three-year-old can play air drums along to music, but I was trying my best. My parents set me up in the backyard with buckets turned upside down, gave me two makeshift drumsticks, and let me go to town. A few months later, I underwent another surgery for my throat, and by age 5, a second surgery for my ear. I had to get tubes again, because my left ear drum kept collapsing. The doctors hoped it would fix the problem this time, but it didn’t.
At 5, I was a little more grown up and interacting as socially as five-year-olds do, but I was starting to notice that I was a little different. The other kids did not have a throat doctor and an ear doctor they had to see every few months. They weren’t having the same struggles I was having to complete basic activities that involved listening. I thought something really was wrong with me, and it damaged my mentality. I felt weird.
Unfortunately for my parents, the banging around to try to drum hadn’t stopped. Older also meant bigger, so it was much louder. Whether they were curious to see how it would go, or a needed to get me out of the house, I will never know. When I was six, I had my first drum lesson. I loved it.
Coincidentally, at that same age I had my first left-ear-specific surgery to remove the second set of tubes and examine my left ear more carefully. Something was seriously wrong with my left ear, and it worried me. I was not just scared of having another surgery, which at the time was the thing I dreaded most, but also of being judged. After a surgery, my ear always had to have cotton in it, and sometimes there was bruising on or around it. It was noticeable. Quite honestly, the other 6-year-olds may not have noticed it at all, but when I looked in the mirror, it was all I saw. In my mind, that's all anyone saw when they looked at me. My ear issues defined me.
Seven brought more surgeries and the realization that I was, in fact, different from everyone else. It really started to bother me. I had been through surgery after surgery, and having to hear about what was wrong with me at a doctor's appointment every few months took a toll on my self confidence. Even if I was accidentally excluded from something at recess, my mind told me it was because I was the weird kid who had an ear that didn't work. I felt like an outcast.
That year for my birthday, I got a gift that would change the trajectory of my life and begin to lay the foundation of who I am: my first drum set. Later that same year , I had my first drum performance. I was especially proud of that first performance, because for the first time in my life, I felt as though I was finally equal to, if not even better than, the other kids. There was finally something that set me apart that wasn't a setback.
I had the same feeling again that summer when I was part of a summer band program called School of Rock. We played at a pool bar, and it was my first time playing with a full band. I felt true camaraderie for the first time. I was surrounded by other musicians, and I felt normal around these people. No one cared about what you looked like, where you were from, or what was wrong with you. In fact, I was a little young for the program. Most of the kids were older than 10, and I was only 8. And to be honest, I was really good, especially for a kid who couldn’t hear what was going on with his left ear. If you could play and didn't hold everyone back, everyone liked you. When I performed on stage, it continued to feed the addiction of playing I was developing and once again made me feel like I was finally good at something that separated me from everyone else in a positive way.
The feeling was only temporary though, because two months later, I had the biggest surgery of my 8 years. My left ear compared to my right ear, suffered from severe hearing loss. This led to 2 long, complicated surgeries to repair my ear drum and reconstruct my inner ear using titanium bones. The surgeries were a nightmare for me. First, they happened at NYU in an adult hospital, so I didn’t have the same comforts I would have gotten at a children’s hospital. Second, the doctors had to essentially cut my ear off and reattach it. This made the recoveries long, painful, and embarrassing. I didn’t enjoy sports as much as everyone else, but I really didn’t enjoy having to sit out while everyone else was running around and playing. To make matters even worse, they didn’t work as well as we hoped. My hearing was still well below normal, meaning I still had a pretty severe hearing loss. However, my right ear was starting to compensate, and the hearing in that ear was above average. I had no choice but to accept the fact that I was just going to be different, and that meant constant adjustment.
In 2016, just before I started middle school, I moved to Nashville from Connecticut. Middle School is a pretty awkward age, and I already had pretty low self esteem, so having to socialize and explain myself to a new group of middle schoolers was not easy. For the longest time, I saw myself as a hindrance to everyone around me: someone they had to deal with. I had to sit on a certain side of the classroom, I had to be extremely careful with my right ear, and I had to make sure my friends were on my right side. Drumming helped me gain some self confidence, but I was still very conscious of what other people would think about me. At least I still had my drums though - until I didn’t.
In the middle of 7th grade, once I’d finally gotten settled, my ear reared its ugly head again. Any progress that had been made in Connecticut had been undone over time, and they had to start over all in one surgery. Recovery this time was longer and even worse. My ear looked noticeably different, appearing to have been pushed forward because of how it had to be cut open for surgery. I had stitches up the back of my ear that made me extremely uncomfortable and self conscious. Even worse, unlike the previous surgeries, I wasn’t allowed to drum for several months, because my ear was so sensitive. That was a pretty low point, but I had to do something, so I would lay in bed with my sticks and play on my legs or pillows trying to get my hands faster. I am sure anyone here who has a passion that involves their body has been injured at some point. You feel like it is holding you back from getting better. It is the worst feeling: being trapped and not being able to do what you love most. I was doing anything I could to keep up my progression.
Compared to everything that came before, High School, although not without its challenges, has been a little less of a struggle. I had my 11th, and hopefully last, surgery due to some issues with balance and vertigo my Junior year. I’ve taken on the hardest songs I’ve ever had to learn and tried new styles of music, which included joining the jazz band and playing in the pit orchestra for the musical. I am proud of my accomplishments, because I’ve had to work really hard to overcome a lot, and I’m grateful for the role music has played in my life.
Sometimes, I feel like my hearing is getting worse. I don’t know if it will continue to get worse, but I know it is probably not going to get better- that is OK. I just keep adjusting and working around it. When I drum, I feel each hit or kick in my chest, and that is what makes me feel normal. I’m lucky that I found the one instrument that doesn’t require me to be able to hear myself.
Music saved me from low self-esteem, gave me a safe place to retreat to, and protected me from my own thoughts and others opinions of me. Maybe, when you are having a tough time or going through a lot, it can save you too. You don’t have to be a musician to appreciate music. Music and rhythm are the strongest forces in nature. Whether you are paying attention to it or not, music is all around us. It can make you feel different emotions just by listening, help people understand themselves, and be a kind of therapy that is really rewarding. We all have memories tied to music - the kind that when you hear a song, you are taken back to a particular place or event. For me, when I hear music and rhythms, I am transported to the lowest and the highest moments in my whole life. It took me a long time to find this joy, so I’d like to share some of my joy with you right now.
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