Archive for September, 2007

The Lawnmower Man

{ September 28, 2007 @ 2:11 pm } · { Hard of hearing Librarian, Library, Local Government Building, hearing loss }
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It’s confession time!

The Local Government Building I write about in my posts is a Public Library. That’s right, I’m a Librarian and a musician with hearing loss. I work the Information Desk at the Library, and also provide programming for children of all ages. I’m currently working in an inner city Library where off-duty Sheriff’s Deputies provide “guard” services to ensure the safety of Library staff and Library customers. Now that I’ve revealed my secret, you can expect more candid blogging from me, starting with this little story that happened while I was at lunch:

Yesterday, a gentleman brought his lawnmower to the Local Government Building Library. Not a riding mower, but a “stand behind it and push” model. He propped it up against the glass entrance doors to watch it while surfing the ‘Net. This caused quite a stir with the Library staff, and the Senior Librarian immediately confronted him.

Senior Librarian: Sir, you need to move your lawnmower.

Gentleman: Why? It’s not in anyone’s way.

Senior Librarian: You can’t leave it there.

Gentleman: It isn’t blocking the doors!

Senior Librarian: Sir, please move the lawnmower.

The gentleman sighs deeply and moves the lawnmower a few feet, propping it next to the bookdrop. At this point, our trusty Deputy steps in and goes face to face with the lawnmower man:

Deputy: You can’t keep your lawnmower there. Move it off Library property.

Gentleman: This is ridiculous! There are bikes in front of the Library! Why can’t I have my lawnmower here?

Deputy: The bikes are in the bike rack. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lawnmower rack.

And you can’t park your jet ski, go-kart, boat, horse, donkey, or cow in front of the Library, either. Just so you know.

Never Put Them in Your Lap!

{ September 26, 2007 @ 2:34 am } · { Girly Girl, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing aids, hearing impaired, hearing loss }
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I’ve blogged twice about the destruction and near destruction of my hearing aids, and have to admit, it is somewhat embarrassing to tell the whole world about these calamities. The only thing I can say in my defense is that accidents DO happen, and in the past 31 years, I’ve only had 3 mishaps with my hearing aids. That’s once a decade - not a bad record. The most recent disaster was almost 4 years ago:

Not wanting to cook one evening after work, I drive my kids to Subway for dinner with my hearing aids sitting in my lap. When we arrive at the sandwich shop, I wait in the car while my kids place their orders. I pop the trunk open and step out to refill my water bottle. After the kids get back in the car with their sandwiches, we head over to the mall. I’m not in the mood for any drama due to my deafness, so I decide to put my hearing aids on ………only I can’t find them.

I feel sick as I realize what happened. Frantic with worry, I plead with my daughter to call information for Subway‘s number, then call Subway while I drive like a maniac, praying my hearing aids are intact.

Girly Girl on the phone: My mom dropped her hearing aids in the parking lot. Please send someone outside to pick them up before they get run over.

Subway employee: Click.

Girly Girl: Mom, he hung up on me!

Me: Call the numbskulls again! And hurry!

The second time Girly Girl called, she was placed on hold, and a minute later told there are no hearing aids near the store.

As I pull into the parking lot, I spot the oh-so-familiar beige on the pavement next to a car. Slamming my car into park, I open the door and almost trip over my feet rushing toward my “ears.” Scooping up my treasures quickly, I run back to my car, chanting, “Please let them work, please let them work.”

Alas, it was not to be. Only one hearing aid was unscathed. The other aid displayed its inner workings through gaping cracks in its formerly smooth exterior. Even the ear mold was split in half. Tears of anguish filled my eyes. I’m ashamed to write what happened next, but I was not in my right mind as I stormed into the packed Subway and began shouting at the employees, holding my hearing aids up for all the world to see.

Me: (Glaring at the poor sandwich artists) MY HEARING AIDS WERE IN THE PARKING LOT! THEY WERE IN FULL VIEW! WHY WOULDN’T YOU PICK THEM UP WHEN WE CALLED? WHY DIDN’T YOU PICK THEM UP???????? WOULD IT HAVE HURT YOU TO PICK THEM UP????

Subway employee: Mgh mgh kdom dofkd mgh mgh.

Me: What?

Subway employee: Mgh mgh kdom dofkd mgh mgh.

Me: (At the top of my lungs with my most theatrical voice) GUESS WHAT?  I   C A N ’ T    H E A R    Y O U !!!!!

……..And the crazy deaf lady went home to search for the warranty paperwork for her hearing aids.  Fortunately, the warranty covered Acts of Stupidity.  But The Stupid One had to pay a $425 deductible!

Was My Face Red!

{ September 21, 2007 @ 2:12 am } · { deaf, deafness, foreign accents, hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing loss, lipreading }
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A coworker recently returned from a week long vacation in New York. She stayed with relatives, and began to worry as she heard herself slip deeper into her native New York accent each passing day. She was a bit fearful of becoming the subject of one of my posts (Hi Michelle!) when she returned to work talking about her “muddah, faddah, and kwoffee.”

The funny thing is, I’m okay with heavy accents from The South, New York, the Cayman Islands, and the Bay Islands of Honduras, given sufficient volume and lip movements. My brain is able to “fill in” the missing sounds when I listen to people who hail from these places. But most foreign accents leave me baffled, especially when extra syllables are added and emphasized. Case in point:

Customer: Re - AH - roo.

Me: (Blank look on my face) Please repeat that?

Customer: Re - AH - roo.

Me: (Speaking quietly to coworker) Please help me! I don’t know if he’s speaking English or not!

Coworker to customer: May I help you?

Customer: Re - AH - roo.

Coworker: (Points to restroom)

Customer: (Begins walking to the restroom, but not before giving me a disgusted look)

Me: (Humiliated)

In moments like this, it’s hard to prove I wasn’t raised by a pack of rabid wolves.

Made for Each Other

{ September 14, 2007 @ 8:52 pm } · { Local Government Building, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing loss, lipreading, lisps }
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I sit quietly at my desk in the Local Government Building. Customers are behaving themselves, and all is peaceful, when the door opens and The Dreaded Customer walks in the door. He’s never rude, never impolite, but I cringe inwardly the second he appears. Why? He’s the bane of my existence; every word he speaks looks EXACTLY the same. He simply repeats it endlessly. “Don’t look at his lips, don’t look at his lips,” I chant in my mind as he saunters up to my desk.

Me: Hi, may I help you?

Dreaded Customer: Bub-bub-bub-bub-bub-bub-bub-bub. Bub-bub-bub-bub?

Me: (Totally clueless look on my face) Excuse me?

Dreaded Customer: Bub-bub-bub-bub-bub-bub-bub-bub. Bub-bub-bub-bub?

Me: What kind of information do you need?

He gestures wildly, and speaks louder. Beads of perspiration form on my forehead. With intense effort, I manage to decode his nonsensical word formations and he leaves quickly. My sense of relief vanishes rapidly, however, as my gaze falls upon the next person to enter the Local Government Building. This is unbelievable! It can’t be! Not two in a row!

Now it’s time for an encounter with Miss Thith-thith-thith-thith-thith.

How to Annoy Normal Hearing People

{ September 13, 2007 @ 1:42 am } · { FM System, bluetooth, cell phone, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing aids, hearing impaired, hearing loss }
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I push the shopping cart through the aisles in the grocery store, and notice a woman giving me a quizzical glance. Maybe she recognizes me from the Local Government Building, I think to myself, and continue my trek to the cookie aisle, lured by Mrs. Field’s finest semi-sweet chocolate chip cookies. As I giddily reach my destination, several people turn to look at me, with the same quizzical expression on their faces. Aha - now I get it! My cell phone must be playing the Macarena. I check it, and sure enough, Super Hearing Boy is calling his Mama!

I’m truly perplexed by my cell phone. It’s hearing aid compatible, and I use it daily with my T-switch or Bluetooth it with my SmartLink and hearing aids. It is set to the loudest factory-installed ringtone, yet I can’t hear it ring most of the time. This past week, I have been fruitlessly trying to create a suitable ringtone using my piano keyboard, Anvil Studio, and MyxerTones. I’ve read blogs and forum posts devoted to the LG VX8300 promising ringtones without a hitch, and have been able to successfully create several. I’ve converted MIDI files to wav, MIDI to MP3s, and wav to MP3s. Unfortunately, only Super Hearing Boy can hear my creations.

As I previously posted, I don’t wear my hearing aids when I’m not actively listening to someone. As I write this, I see that I missed a call about an hour ago - and my phone was two feet from my ears! Does ANYONE know of a loud ringtone suitable for hard of hearing people? Please don’t suggest that I set it to vibrate and attach it to my waistband - that’s not gonna happen!

Thanks!

Cindy (Deaf person with a cell phone)

Elvis sang about me…..

{ September 6, 2007 @ 1:51 am } · { Girly Girl, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing loss, normal hearing children }
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Before I became a mom, I was a bit anxious about my ability to take care of offspring. Would I be able to hear my newborn’s cries of distress? Would I understand my child’s first sweet words? Could I take care of my children despite my deafness?

I need not have worried. Once I crossed the threshold into motherhood, I was pleased to discover my hearing loss adequately compensated with an otherworldly ability to gather information by scent. This skill has served me well over the years, covering every stage of development in my children’s lives. My olfactory sense enables me to:

  • detect a dirty diaper from 20 feet away (Infant stage)
  • determine who ate the missing cookies (Toddler  - Preteen years)
  • know if smokers have been around my children (Teen years)
  • smell TROUBLE (Early Adulthood)

Consider the following exchange between my teenage daughter and me just before she turned 18:

“Where did you go?”

“To a house.”

“What did you and your friends do?”

“Stuff.”

If she won’t give me details, I’ll find out for myself. I call my firstborn to me and begin sniffing.

“I smell cigarette smoke! Have you been smoking?“

“No!“

I raise her hands to my nose. She’s telling the truth.

“Let me smell your breath!“

She rolls her eyes and lets out an exaggerated sigh. Hmmm. No alcohol or tobacco scent.

“Okay, you can go.“

Before she departs for her room, she gives me the evil eye and says, “Mom, you’re like a HOUND DOG sniffing me all the time!“

Aren’t the teenage years precious?

It CAN’T happen to you…….

{ September 2, 2007 @ 9:03 pm } · { deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing aid, hearing aids, hearing impaired, hearing loss }
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This will make you KISS your hearing aids!

The Forgotten Superhero

{ September 2, 2007 @ 12:22 am } · { Super Hearing Boy, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing loss, noise pollution, normal hearing children }
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Last night:

Super Hearing Boy (SHB): “I’m going to sleep now.”

Me: “Okay, have a good night - I love you!”

A few minutes later:

SHB: “Mom, I can’t sleep. I hear termites chewing something. I think it’s the dresser Tanya gave us.”

Me: “You’re joking, right?”

SHB: “No.”  

Throwing the sheet off, I leave my comfortable nest and follow my son to his room.  

SHB: “I think the termites are in the wood trim around the mirror.”  

I separate the mirror from the dresser, exposing a mound of termite droppings.  

SHB: “See! I knew I could hear them!”  

After relocating the mirror to the living room far from Super Hearing Boy’s hypersensitive ears, I return to my bed.  

Two minutes later:  

SHB: “Mom, I still hear them.”  

Me: “You could use a little deafness right now, Boy. Let me sleep!”  

SHB: “It’s really loud!”  

Sigh. Once again, I leave my soft bed to save my mutant superhero from the sounds of loudness. We push the dresser into the dining room to await its fate, then I slide into my bed for the third and hopefully final time that night.  

As I wait for waves of sleep to engulf me, I’m awed by Super Hearing Boy’s supersonic hearing. I’m also somewhat thankful for my deafness, knowing I’ll never lose sleep over irritating sounds that have caused problems for SHB in the past. You know, horrid sounds such as the flapping of butterflies’ wings, leaves falling, or grass growing.