Listen Up

Tonight is a very special night.  It’s a night when girls who can’t hear – and maybe some girls switched at birth – will gather around the television to watch the show that has made both groups of gals part of the mainstream (if ABC Family counts as the mainstream).  They’ll be watching a very special episode of “Switched at Birth” that’s inspired by the Deaf President Now protests that occurred at Gallaudet University.  The episode will be presented entirely in American Sign Language (ASL) – the first mainstream show to ever do that. 

I expect it to be a very quiet episode.  Except when they play the music in the background over the really intense parts.  That always makes me wonder if deaf people hear music in their heads when they’re signing.  Especially when someone robs their taco truck. 

It’s kinda like how I hear the music in my head nowadays.

So, I have a confession to make.  I haven’t been listening to you.  It’s a bit of a switch – it used to be that I couldn’t hear you.  Now, I’m just not listening to you. 

Not when I’m in my cubicle typing away.  Not when I bee-bop down the hall.  Not when I grab a jar of applesauce in the supermarket.

If you happen to talk to me and I don’t respond, it’s not because I didn’t hear you or even that I was ignoring you.  I’m just not listening to you.  I’m listening to the music to my head.  And sometimes voices. 

Have I gone crazy?  It’s up for discussion but I think not. 

It’s a recent development, you see. 

A couple of months ago, I got a new-fangled hearing aid complete with a streaming microphone.  So, I can plug it into to my iPod and stream the Top Gun soundtrack right into my hearing aid.  And as long as I’m within 20-30 feet of my receiver, I can hear the music.  Which makes going to the printer so much more fun. 

But the music is one thing – I mean anybody with an iPod and ear buds can do that. 

The major thing – that is both technologically amazing and loads of fun – is that I can clip the microphone to a willing friend’s shirt (they’ve all been willing which goes to show that no one minds having a girl with a hearing aid around) and when they talk, their voice is literally right inside my head.  Which comes in handy when I need answers for spelling tests.  I’m just kidding.  I have ethics! 

While I don’t use it day-to-day – except to listen to music – it does open up a whole new world of possibilities.  Okay, mostly just in the area of seating arrangements or when walking down the hallway with people.  As one friend pointed out when I showed her my new device – it doesn’t matter what side she’s on!  Left, front, back, she’ll be right there in my right ear.  Pretty cool, right?

On a serious note, I’m pretty lucky that I can hear with the assistance of a hearing aid – and even without my new fangled accessories, I made out pretty well.  Even if some of my friends did have to stay on my right side.    

But being one of those girls who can’t hear, I’m excited about tonight’s show although I won’t be able to understand a word of it since I don’t know sign language.

I guess I’ll just have to listen closely. 

Do You Hear What I Hear?

I’m taking a chance here, dear readers, but for you, it’s worth it.  I’m pretty sure that after reading this post, my mother will call me to remind me “you know what you need to do.”  And I will grudgingly sigh, roll my eyes, and say “I know,” and then ignore her advice.  Of course, I know what I should do.  Doing it is an altogether different matter, however.  Oh well, here goes.

You guys know I’m hearing impaired – by the way, I just found out this is politically incorrect!  But it’s okay if I say it.  Just don’t you say it.  Anyway, I’ve never considered it to be a disability although according to this Q&A paper about hearing impairments and the American with Disabilities Act (ADA), I’m pretty sure I’m Example 2:

If an individual uses mitigating measures, such as hearing aids, cochlear implants, or other devices that actually improve hearing, these measures must be considered in determining whether the individual has a disability under the ADA. Even someone who uses a mitigating measure may have a disability if the measure does not correct the condition completely and substantial limitations remain, or if the mitigating measure itself imposes substantial limitations.

Example 2: An individual with a hearing impairment uses a hearing aid to amplify sounds. With the hearing aid, he can detect sounds such as traffic, sirens, and loud conversations at a very low level. For this reason, he must be in close proximity to the origin of sound in order to hear in a meaningful way. This individual is substantially limited in hearing even with the mitigating measure (i.e., the hearing aid).

Granted, this paper was written in 2006 so maybe things have changed.  I’m too lazy to find out if there’s anything more recent on the subject. 

While I’ve never considered myself to be an American with a disability, I am grateful for the ADA and its impact on my life.  And not just because of all those ramps that businesses had to put in.  No, my ADA victory came in the form of volume controls on public pay phones.  (My mom’s Norma Rae moment – making my high school install volume controlled pay phones!)  Of course, when’s the last time anyone used a pay phone?  But it’s nice to know that I could if I needed – or wanted – to.

So, I don’t consider myself as having a disability.  More like an inability.  I’m unable to hear – without mitigating measures, of course – just like I’m unable to smell or unable to use chopsticks.  Generally, I do pretty well.  Or at least I think I do pretty well.  Maybe I just hang out with loud people.  Or they’re all speaking loudly because I’m there.  Oh gosh, that would be embarrassing!

Sometimes I don’t hear everything and I’ll try to make sense of it in my head – like when I might not hear all the parts of the story about how hard it is to get your kid to nap and in my head I’m wondering who got kidnapped and why you're even at work if your kid was kidnapped.  It just gets all scrambled up and I realize the conversation quickly veered off track somewhere along the line, well, along my line at least.  Usually I think, gosh, they must think I’m a total space cadet. 

Overall, I compensate well.  At least that’s what my mom always used to say.  I work a little harder.  I focus a little more.  And while I only fall back on it in dire circumstances – like when my hearing aid battery dies mid-conversation – I’m a fairly good lip reader.   

I’m also a strategic positioner.  I know where to sit in meetings or at lunch to make sure I’ll be able to hear.  I know who has to be on my right, who can be on my left, and who really should be directly in front of me so I can read their lips.  It’s a pretty good strategy except when I forget who the lefties are.  Walking down the hallway, it’s best if people are on my right side.  I’ll usually maneuver myself so that I’m on the left and my good friends usually drift to the right – without any comment or awkwardness or shouts of "get on the deaf girl's right!".  It’s not something codified in the ADA…it’s just something they do because they’re kind, caring people.  Or they don't want to have to repeat themselves.  

Is it embarrassing when I don’t hear something?  Occasionally.  Is it frustrating being hearing impaired?  At times.  Is it frustrating for my friends and family?  I imagine - and worry - that it is. 

Do I wish I could hear like everyone else?  Yes. 

But then I wouldn’t get to turn everyone off.  And that's not such a bad ability.         

The story of my life.
(I'm not sure how to give credit - I found this on Pintrest.
I'm assuming it's from itotallyrelate.tumblr.com.)

Whisper Down the…wait, what’d you say?

ABC Family premiered a new show last week called Switched at Birth.  It’s about two teenage girls who were, wait for it…switched at birth.  But here’s where it gets interesting – the girl who was supposed to go home with the family who lives in a big house and made their fortune from a chain of car washes but who instead ended up with the single mom who raised her in the not so nice part of Kansas City (I’ve been in Kansas City, I know where those not so nice parts are) – that girl, she got meningitis when she was three and now she’s deaf and wears a hearing aid.  So, now the rich family has to grapple with the fact that 1) the daughter who they thought was theirs…isn’t and 2) their biological daughter is deaf.  Interesting wrinkle, don’t you think?

It got me thinking.   Mainly because I haven’t really seen many deaf/hearing impaired people in central roles on television and movies.  Sure, there was Children of a Lesser God but that was like a gabillion years ago although Marlee Matlin did do quite well in this season of Celebrity Apprentice.  Now, there’s this show and there’s this character who wears a hearing aid and who signs and who goes to a school for the deaf (until this week’s episode when she transfers to the “mainstream” school) and everything’s out in the open and she’s a-okay with it all.  It got me thinking some more. 

Digital D...the 2009 model

What’s this?  A hearing aid.  You might’ve seen one before – maybe your coworker wears one, or your grandma, or the crazy cat lady on the corner.  What makes this one special?  Well, it’s mine.  And why’s that special?  Because it’s something that I very rarely share.  You might get a glimpse of it if I tuck my hair behind my ear.  If you’re curious, you might even ask me about it – that question always begins with “Can I ask you a personal question?”  I always panic a little when that happens because those questions can go quite a few different ways, if you know what I’m sayin’. 

I’m gonna go off on a quick tangent.  I don’t know what the difference is between being deaf, being hearing impaired, or being hard of hearing.  There might be a legal or medical definition but as I said before, I never pay attention to those things.  My family and I have always referred to my brother and me as “hearing impaired.”  Whatever term you wanna call it, at the end of the day, when we turn off our hearing aids – we can’t hear.

My first hearing aid.  My mom used to 
sew fabric pouches to hold the battery
case that I wore under my shirt. 
Clearly, this was my Valentine's Day pouch.

Wearing a hearing aid requires some adjustments to one’s life.  A girl always has to be prepared – so I carry a pack of batteries with me wherever I go.  Except when I forget.  Then there are the cascading waterfalls that I have to avoid…hearing aids and water don’t mix.  (I’ve actually run this scenario through my head…what if I am somewhere where there is a cascading waterfall and I want to dive in…do I holler, wait, I just have to take my hearing aid out?  It’s a bit of a mood killer, I think.)  When I ride roller coasters, I always take it out because when you’re going on the Double Loop O’Terror, you definitely don’t want to worry about your hearing aid falling out and hitting someone in the head…oh yeah, then you have to try to find it!  And I really, really stink at the game “Whisper Down the Lane.”  Trust me, I will screw it up.  There are some benefits though.  I can turn myself off whenever I want…but generally I limit that to when I run the vacuum or when I’m trying to ignore my mom.  So, not that often.  Because it’s not really fair to all of you hearing folks   

I have an interesting relationship with my hearing aid.  I need it to function and operate in the world.  But it’s also something that I’ve always been embarrassed about…it’s something that I felt like I needed to keep secret.  It wasn’t always like that.  I have a vivid memory of being at my cubby in kindergarten with my friends changing my hearing aid battery – it was the neat thing to do.  But as I got older, and all the voices inside of me screamed “you’re different!” over and over, I hid the one visible thing that I had the power to hide – my hearing aid.  I never wore my hair up (to this day, my hair dresser has a standing order – don’t show the ears).  I figured - if no one saw it, they wouldn’t know my big secret. 

Here’s the thing with secrets.  Everyone usually figures it out sooner or later.  Without fail, the few friends whom I felt safe enough to tell that I wear a hearing aid, have looked at me and said “yeah, I know….and so does she and so does he.  And I think the guy down the hall knows too.  Where are we going for lunch?” 

Everyone knows.  They’re a-okay with it.  You know what?  So am I.    

But I am bummed about all those French braids that I missed out on all those years when I apparently wasn’t hiding anything!