Archive for hard of hearing

Seen, But Not Heard

{ March 11, 2008 @ 12:30 am } · { Communication technique, Hard of hearing musician, Super Hearing Boy, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing loss }
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Normal hearing children that grow up with a hard of hearing (HOH) parent naturally adapt to the parent’s hearing loss; from an early age, both of my children muted the television, turned off music, and made sure I could see their lips before they attempted to speak to me. Sometimes I felt just a little bad that “talking to mommy” required more work than talking to other people.

 

But that was BEFORE Super Hearing Boy (SHB) became a teenager.

 

SHB gradually came into the realization that he could take advantage of my lipreading ability and USE IT AGAINST ME. And do it in a subtle, sneaky manner… and make me look like I’ve gone berserk! How is this possible?

 

I’m at the piano, rehearsing with the band at church after potluck, and glance over at SHB. He’s staring at me, trying to get my attention without any of the guys noticing. The instant I look at him, he starts moving his lips without making a sound. The sight of his moving lips puts me in an almost hypnotic trance and I’m compelled to lipread until his lips are still. I shake my head to indicate “no” and his lips move again. Finally, I stop playing, and say firmly, “No, I am NOT going to drive you home now and come back here to finish rehearsing! Just sit tight for another half hour and stop arguing with me!”

 

The guitarists and drummer are silenced by my outburst.

 

Guess who looks like a raving lunatic and who looks calm and composed?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Beethoven Effect

{ March 4, 2008 @ 11:05 pm } · { Super Hearing Boy, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing aids, hearing impaired, hearing loss }
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Is anyone still interested in reading this blog? Due to major changes in both my professional and personal life, I’ve seriously neglected it, and I apologize for my laxness. Now that I’ve adjusted to my situation somewhat, I feel like writing again.

Let me begin the “rebirth” of my blog by telling how I stumbled upon a very effective method of upgrading from a semi-private hospital room to a private room, at no additional cost. If you are hard of hearing, you’ve got the necessary tools to do the same!

Sixteen years ago, I welcomed Super Hearing Boy into the world. He was delivered via C-section, and powerful drugs dulled the pain inherent with this major abdominal surgery. I vaguely remember being wheeled into a semi-private hospital room, and later that day another mom who had also recently given birth was assigned to my room. Family members eager to see my precious newborn visited while I drifted in and out of consciousness.

That night, shortly after I slipped into a drug-induced sleep, I felt someone grab my wrist.

Me (Momentarily forgetting where I was): “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Nurse: “Mmdghskdlfk”

Me (fumbling for the light switch, hearing aids, and eyeglasses and speaking in a loud voice): “LET ME TURN ON THE LIGHT AND GET MY GLASSES AND HEARING AIDS.”

(A minute later)

Nurse: I’m just taking your pulse.”

(Repeat scenario a few hours later)

When night turned into day, I woke up in a private room. Bewildered, I pressed the call button, and a nurse soon appeared.

Me: “Why have I been moved into this room? Is my baby alright?”

Nurse: “Your baby is fine.”

Me: “Why am I in this room?”

Nurse: “You woke your roommate every time the nurse checked your vitals last night, so we decided to give you a private room.”

Me: “Oh.”

And there you have it - solid evidence that there ARE benefits to having a hearing loss!

Librarian = Detective

{ November 12, 2007 @ 1:48 am } · { Hard of hearing Librarian, Library, Local Government Building, deaf, hard of hearing }
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The elderly gentleman wore a white Guayabera, a man’s shirt popular in Latin and Asian countries, and walked briskly towards me at the Reference Desk. I have to admit, from past experiences, because of the way he was dressed AND his age, I prepared myself to focus on a heavy Spanish accent (Before I get any hate mail, my grandfather wore Guayaberas, and he was from a Latin American country). But nothing could prepare me for what I heard. The first sounds out of his mouth weren’t English or Spanish. They weren’t even Spanglish.

Elderly gentleman (in a loud voice): “Chair Lee Ho. D-B-D. Chair Lee Ho.”

Me: You want a DVD?

Elderly gentleman: (nods head excitedly) “Chair Lee Ho!”

I glance at my normal hearing coworker and he shrugs his shoulders, indicating he has no clue what the man is saying, either.

Me: (handing the gentleman a paper and pen) “I’m not quite getting the title. Can you write that down for me?”

Elderly gentleman: (looking offended) “Chair Lee Ho! Okay, I write!” He writes down the printed version of “Chair Lee Ho,” triumphantly hands the paper to me with a big smile, and once again says, “Chair Lee Ho!”

Me: (trying not to laugh) You want a Sherlock Holmes DVD?”

Elderly gentleman: (grinning from ear to ear) “Yes! Chair Lee Ho! Chair Lee Ho!”

Sometimes you have to be Sherlock Holmes just to understand people in the Library!

Hard of hearing/Deaf Readers!

{ October 22, 2007 @ 12:38 am } · { Careers, Poll, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing loss }
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What do YOU do for a living? No, this has nothing to do with Big Brother - I’m just curious, and I’m sure a lot of other hoh/deaf people would be interested in knowing the different careers held by other hoh/deaf. I’ve made it easy for everyone to remain anonymous by temporarily disabling the sign-in requirement. Stay at home moms and dads may participate, too.
Please list:

  • your first name (or initial)
  • job title
  • accommodation(s) provided by your employer

Lurkers - this means YOU, too! Thanks!

New Audiogram

{ October 17, 2007 @ 3:44 am } · { Hard of hearing Librarian, Library, audiogram, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing aids, hearing impaired, hearing loss, recruitment }
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Last week my audiologist adjusted the settings on my hearing aids. I had reached the point where I didn’t want to wear them at work because it was too painful to hear. Environmental sounds were so magnified that I almost jumped out of my skin, yet speech remained barely audible. In the Library, the “clunk” of books, CD cases, and DVD cases landing on book carts and tabletops drowned out all speech. A coworker’s lingering cough EXPLODED in my ears all day for weeks. Crying babies made me rip my hearing aids out! Yes, I looked nutty reacting to sounds that normal hearing people swore were soft!

I was experiencing the wonder known as “recruitment,” explained here by the very knowledgeable Neil Bauman, Ph.D. Recruitment goes hand in hand with a sensorineural hearing loss. The more severe the hearing loss, the worse the recruitment. I’ve been aware of my recruitment for a couple of decades, but the new level of discomfort was unbearable. My wise audiologist decided to test my hearing before adjusting my aids, and discovered that one ear has changed SIGNIFICANTLY; I can no longer hear any high frequencies in my left ear.

If you wear hearing aids and sounds are becoming painful, please make an appointment to see your audiologist right away.

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Ow!

{ October 15, 2007 @ 4:14 am } · { Emergency Room, Super Hearing Boy, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing aids, hearing loss }
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This past Friday night I was relaxing at home, surfing the ‘Net, and reading blogs. Super Hearing Boy (SHB) was washing dishes as payment for his cell phone subscription. Suddenly, he runs into my room with a look of terror on his face and shouts:

SHB: MMMMmmm! MMM MMMdMMMMSLSKDJDK!!

Me: What?

SHB: Look! (points)

Blood was pouring from his right hand.

Me: What happened???!!!!!

SHB: I was washing a glass and it broke!

This was no superficial cut; he needed medical attention at once. I grab a washcloth to wrap his hand in, grab my purse, and in 60 seconds we were out the door. Luckily, the nearest hospital was only a few miles away. I drive like a mad woman and in ten minutes we were in the Emergency Room.

We make a beeline for the nurse’s station.

Me: My son cut his hand! Where do we go?

Nurse: Mmmhdkfjkdj kdjfkdjfk jdkfjdkf kkdfjkd

Me: (Realizing I don’t have my hearing aids in) I’m hard of hearing! Where do we go?

Nurse: (Points)

We go to the room on the right and go to the nurse’s station there. I fumble in my purse and find the box where I keep my hearing aids. Quickly, I place them in my ears and the formerly silent hospital comes to life, blasting my ears with the sound of babies crying, people talking, and the tv blaring.

The triage nurse briefly assesses SHB’s injury and tells us to sit down. A few minutes later, SHB is called and the nurse wraps gauze around his hand and throws away the blood-soaked washcloth. On four separate occasions, SHB is called and I miss his name each time! Because SHB hears so well, I depend on his ears and didn’t ask the hospital staff to walk out to the patient waiting area to get my attention. Three and a half hours later, we leave with SHB’s wound closed with six sutures (stitches).

The next day, after I’ve calmed down, I think about the previous night. I understand hospitals have procedures to follow with each patient, but surely there’s a better way than calling patients’ names in a cacophonous environment. A numbered system that visually alerts patients would be much better. The Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) in my city has an efficient visual and auditory method of alerting customers that’s very hoh/deaf friendly. Upon walking into the DMV, customers take a number and sit down. After a short wait, the customer’s number is spoken and flashed on the multiple screens surrounding the waiting area. Arrows point the way to the appropriate Customer Service Representative.

Does anyone know of an ER with deaf/hoh friendly ways of alerting patients?

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My nose KNOWS

{ October 11, 2007 @ 2:10 am } · { Hard of hearing Librarian, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing aid, hearing aids, hearing impaired, hearing loss, sense of smell }
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I worked until 9:15 last night and arrived home in the dark, unable to see the yard. When I opened my car door, the pungent smell of freshly cut grass enveloped me. In the ten steps from my car to the house, I knew the entire yard had been cut; a stark contrast to Super Hearing Boy’s (SHB’s) usual habit of cutting a portion of the large yard to keep from overexerting himself. But the potency of the grass smell was magnified tenfold this time. I was astounded when SHB confirmed the yard work was totally done!

If the CIA needs human sniffers, they should consider hiring people from the hard of hearing/deaf community. Several hoh/deaf people have written to confide to me they also possess this super powerful sense of smell. Surely we can profit from this phenomenon!

However, there is a downside to this freakish ability. In public places (think about where I work, people), my nose picks up on the personal habits of people around me. From 6 feet away, I can learn A LOT about someone. But I REALLY DON’T WANT TO KNOW who:

  • Forgot to put on deodorant
  • Needs a breath mint
  • Smokes
  • Needs to take a shower
  • Tossed back a few beers for breakfast

Unlike my hearing aids, there’s no “off” button for my nose!

The Expensive Interview

{ October 4, 2007 @ 3:57 am } · { deaf, deafness, driving while deaf, hard of hearing, hard of hearing drivers, hearing impaired, hearing loss, lipreading }
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Do you have close relatives that cannot remember to get your attention before speaking to you, or make sure you can see their lips, or speak clearly, with sufficient volume? Every time I get together with my mother (who lives three miles from me), I ALWAYS have to say one (or more) of the following phrases numerous times:

  • I can’t hear you!
  • What was that?
  • Did you know I have a hearing loss, Mom?
  • Are you talking to me?

Why can’t she remember to communicate properly with me? It doesn’t matter where we are; her place, my place, or in public. It drives me nuts! But one time it almost drove me into the poorhouse.

After I finished graduate school, I applied for a Librarian position several hours away in Jacksonville, Florida. I didn’t trust my old clunker to make the trip and asked my mother if I could borrow her nice car. She agreed to let me use it, and took a vacation day to go with me.

Driving to the interview was uneventful, and the interview lasted a few hours. Anxious to get home, I took a shortcut hoping to shave some time off this long trip. I did this by driving through a little town called Waldo (population 821). My mother chose this time to mumble something to me, and because the road was empty, I turned my head to lipread her.

For those of you who don’t know, Waldo is one of two places in the United States identified by AAA as a “speed trap.” The speed limit changes from 65 down to 45 in the space of half a mile! The good people of Waldo have only 8 police officers who manage to write an astounding 500+ tickets each month. The revenue from these tickets covers 25% of the town’s budget.

I don’t need to tell you that lipreading and driving through a speed trap is NOT A GOOD IDEA. The resulting $200 speeding ticket was tough to pay, as I was fresh out of school and jobless. Outrageous car insurance premiums hounded me for three years following this ticket.

And I didn’t get that job.

My Audiogram

{ October 2, 2007 @ 1:29 am } · { audiogram, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing loss }
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This is my most recent audiogram. There’s no date on it, but I believe it was done last year, in 2006.

 

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Now you know my first name is really Cynthia.

Visual Language

{ October 1, 2007 @ 1:47 am } · { Hard of hearing Librarian, Library, deaf, deafness, hard of hearing, hearing impaired, hearing loss, homeless }
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Ten years ago, I decided to go back to college. As anyone with a disability may do, I contacted Vocational Rehabilitation (VR) for assistance. I had to jump through many hoops as VR evaluated my fitness for collegiate life with IQ, aptitude, and psychological tests. A recently divorced mom with two young children, I knew I needed to earn a degree or two to provide for them and set a positive example.

My first day back on a college campus was thrilling! I was determined to do well in school this time around, but the reality of my deafness hit me in a new way as I sat in the classroom and understood half the lecture and none of the questions asked by my classmates. Flunking was not an option - not with two young children and no child support. I didn’t know sign language, and was unaware of other accommodations in place for hard of hearing students.

I knew about the Office of Services for Students with Disabilities and practically ran there after class. Two days later, I was pleasantly surprised to find an “oral interpreter” waiting for me in Biology class. She soundlessly mouthed my professors’ lectures, and wrote down what I couldn’t lipread. As many of you know, only 1/3 of speech is visible on the lips, and of the visible sounds, several look exactly alike. Have someone “mouth” the following words and see if you can tell the difference:

Elephant juice
Olive juice
I love you

Also - Island View (Thanks, Quixotic Deaf)

To satisfy the foreign language requirement, I took two semesters of American Sign Language (ASL) classes. Eventually, I gained enough vocabulary to “upgrade” from oral to sign language interpreters. Because English is my first language, my interpreters communicated with me using Signed Exact English (SEE), interpreting each spoken word, unlike ASL, which is grammatically and structurally different from English.

My friends, colleagues, and relatives are all hearing, and I rarely have the opportunity to sign. Deaf people are extremely welcome in my Library, and I practice my rusty signs with any willing person. As a Librarian, I have found that my familiarity with sign language is very helpful in other ways, too, as this story illustrates:

A group of homeless men are in the children’s section of the Library. The computers for children have signage clearly indicating they are for children, are on low tables, and have small chairs. But this group of homeless men seem to be oblivious to this fact, and proceed to sit down on these tiny seats. I stifle a giggle at the sight of these grown men - their knees snug in their armpits, hunched over a computer - and walk over to them.

Me: These computers are for children. I’m sorry, but you cannot use them. We have computers for adults over there. (pointing)

Homeless men: Okay. (all proceed to leave, except for one)

I walk back to the Information Desk and wait another minute, expecting the straggler to leave in a few seconds. It soon becomes apparent that he’s not leaving soon, and I return to the computer section.

Me: (Using sign language, I repeat my previous statements)

Homeless man: Huh? What are you saying?

Me: Oh, I’m sorry, when you didn’t leave with your friends, I thought you were Deaf!

Homeless man: (Chagrined look) I’m leaving now.

Yep - I know sign language, and I’m not afraid to use it!

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