I wake up from the anesthesia and a black tide washes over me. The world seeps slowly back. A hospital room. The face of a doctor and two nurses mouthing something I can't understand.  This is not the first time I've woken up from surgery. The first ones I had gave me my cochlear implants. The last one I had gave me my chest scars. This time, seven new bolts of metal have been added to my left arm—I took a fall while bike training for an upcoming ride this summer with a deaf bike group from San