Category: Deaf

Dancing Through the Tears 

On By Glenice SIn Bilateral, Cochlear Implant, Deaf, Hearing Aids, Hearing Loss, Music1 Comment

I have always preserved music in my memory, especially the music I loved before hearing loss made it impossible to learn new songs. Lately I have been playing more music from the early years when I still had most of my hearing. One of those songs has been stuck in my head for the last few days. I haven’t been able to shut it off. The song is, “When Will I See You Again?” by the Three Degrees. 

It’s Christmas time, and I have been prepping for a house full of family on Christmas Eve. Along with the music that keeps playing in my head while I clean, I have been missing my husband, Paul. He died on January 10, 2022. Like the words in the song, I’ve been wondering when will I see him again. The song plays over and over in my head. 

While working in the kitchen, with that song playing in my head, and remembering Paul, a memory of my wonderful husband of 44 years bubbled to the surface of my thoughts. I remember it was Christmastime and earlier that month I had seen my hearing doctor. At the time I had been wearing hearing aids for a few years. At the appointment with my doctor, it was determined that I needed stronger hearing aids, and the deterioration of my hearing did not appear to be slowing down. 

On an evening when I was getting ready for Christmas celebrations doing chores in the kitchen, Paul and his brother started bringing big boxes into the house. Paul wanted to surprise me with a top-of-the-line Bose stereo system. He wanted to give me the gift of music for however much longer I had to hear it. We were raising three daughters, and my first thought was, “Can we afford this?” But that, the budget, isn’t what mattered to Paul. It was a beautiful gift of love. 

That stereo provided great surround sound for many years. When I could, I played it loud and danced through my household chores. Eventually, the lack of hearing made it impossible for me to understand the words of a song. Finally, before I received my first cochlear implant, the only music I enjoyed from the stereo was “Mannheim Steamroller Christmas.” For some reason that style of sound reached me through my deafness, and I’m sure stirred my memory bank of songs enough for me to enjoy it. 

I have had bilateral cochlear implants now for many years. When I got my first implant, the goal was to learn to hear speech and relieve the work of lip reading. I did rehabilitation exercises to learn to hear again and to be able to hear on the phone. After I mastered the phone, I wanted music again. Listening to songs from my good hearing days, sometimes over and over, brought the enjoyment of music back to me. Paul was there for me, every step of the way, always supportive. He would be so happy for me and the hearing system I have now. My latest cochlear implant processors have Bluetooth. When I play music on my phone, it goes directly to my hearing system, and I hear it like I did before deafness. When I’m missing ‘Paul my own’ and remembering us through the years, I’ll put on some music and find myself dancing through the tears.

A Year Like No Other

On By Glenice SIn Advance Bionics, Assistance Dog, Can-Do-Canines, Cochlear Implant, DeafLeave a comment

Yates has been living with me for one year. We celebrated the anniversary on May 13th which marked the exact day I brought him home. It has been quite a year and I am so grateful I had Yates by my side. 

Lately, on our daily walks I have been reflecting on the last year. At the forefront of my mind has been the fact that when Yates is in his vest, when we are out and about, that says to the public that I have a disability and I am assisted with a Can-Do-Canine. For me, that has probably been the biggest adjustment. I remember when I had my interview with Sarah from Can-Do-Canines and she asked me how I felt about making my invisible disability visible. At the time, I had not really thought a lot about what that would mean to me. I know I tried to assure Sarah that I would be fine with it; however, the experience of actually making it visible had some pluses and minuses for me emotionally.

Some history is needed to understand why that was an adjustment. Around the time that I received the diagnosis that my hearing loss was progressive and I would probably be deaf by the time I was 50, I also discovered by accident that I was lipreading.  Apparently I was unconsciously adjusting to losing my hearing and adapting with visual clues. Eventually I came to rely on lipreading. I wore hearing aids, but they did not give me quality hearing that I could use to decipher speech. During those years, when necessary, I would tell whomever I was communicating with that I needed to see their face so I could read their lips. Thousands of times I had to say, “I’m hearing impaired and read lips.” Fessing up to my disability was something I often had to do, but it wore on me. So it remained invisible as much as I could manage to cover it up.

In 2001, when I was 44, my hearing loss had progressed to severe/profound and I qualified to receive a cochlear implant. It was a relief to have doctors finally say there was something that could be done and might help. The cochlear implant was a great success and gave me sounds that I had not heard in years. In many situations speech sounds were getting through and I could understand more conversation. Life began to change and communication got a lot easier. The cochlear implant eliminated my constant need to tell people that I am hearing impaired and I need to see their face for lip reading. It was great to have more choice on when to reveal my disability because I could get through many situations with the sounds I get from my bionic ears.

As wonderful as my bionic ears are, they are not on all the time. I felt a gap in the independence I had gained from family assistance. I realized I wanted more independence when my “ears” are off and I’m in my silent world. For instance, I wanted to be comfortable traveling by myself. Sleeping in a hotel room without a hearing person present was uncomfortable knowing I would not wake to a smoke alarm, knocking on the door, or a phone ringing. With this in mind I searched for options and found Can-Do-Canines and I applied for a hearing assistance dog. 

I was matched with Yates in May of 2020 and I was able to bring him home on the 13th of May. Also in May of 2020, recommendations to wear face masks to slow the spread of the virus, covid-19, had been made to the public. 

Though I hear well with my cochlear implants masks were muffling speech, and I soon discovered that I still read lips. More so than I realized until I was faced with people everywhere wearing face coverings. Not only did I feel a great disconnect from society, I myself couldn’t wear a face mask. When attempting to shop I was confronted with people asking if I had a mask. More often than not, with their speech muffled by a mask, I could not understand what they were saying. I had to resort to telling them “I read lips”  and in some instances they would pull their mask down to communicate with me. There were other events where I was actually not allowed to enter the store. Stores that I will never shop in again due to their lack of sensitivity to the hearing impaired. 

During the dark days of masks, I was training with Yates to work towards our certification. When we practiced being out in public and would go into stores together, Yates in his cape was a visual clue to the store employees that I have a disability and therefore I was exempt from the mask mandate. I was only asked once if I had a mask when I had Yates with me. People often noticed Yates first and I sometimes could see the smile in their eyes when they saw him with me. 

Making my disability visible this way was hard for me at first. I had many years where I could breeze through an event or activity without revealing that I hear with a cochlear implant system.  I enjoyed not having to share that part of me. On the flip side, making my disability visible through Yates during the mask mandate made things easier for me. Over time and with more public outings with Yates, I relaxed and having Yates with me became a comfort. He eased the stress I felt being in a masked world.

A year like no other has passed. I find myself amazed at God’s timing. He gifted me with Yates.  Yates in his shiny black coat, head held high, and tail wagging has served as a ray of light in a dark time. 

A Punch of Reality

On By Glenice SIn Cochlear Implant, Deaf, Hearing Environment, Hearing Loss, HOH, Thoughts, What I Hear1 Comment

A Few Minutes of Bad, A Lifetime of Good

I don’t hear all the time. When I do hear, when my cochlear implant processors are on, I hear quite well. In fact, I think I do so well that my deafness is forgotten by me as well as others. This can lead to a long stretch of some pretty comfortable living. Routines develop, communication patterns are set and we live our lives – and then something will happen that serves as a reminder of what is.

My nights are silent. The very first part of my day is silent. After my hair is dry and styled I put on my processors and the hearing part of my day begins. Once in a while, something or somebody needs my attention before I’m ready to hear. When this happens I get a big dose of in your face reminder that “I am deaf.”

This morning after my shower but before I had dried my hair, my husband popped his head in and handed me my phone. I had some texts that I read, but they were not the messages he needed me to see. He motioned for me to put my processors on and I reminded him my hair was wet. I could see he was frustrated as he quickly left the room. I said, “Fine,” and headed to my nightstand to put an ear on. Before I got it connected he came back with a hastily scribbled note telling me my daughter would call in about ten minutes. He was anxious to get back to the office. I was left feeling like I had just been punched.

I was reminded of something Rush Limbaugh said when he was finally ready to talk about his hearing loss and cochlear implants. He said, “You know, losing your hearing, having a hearing loss, that’s the only disability that makes people mad at you. People don’t get mad at people that can’t see. They don’t get mad at people that can’t walk. They don’t get mad at people that can’t taste or smell anything. But you get mad at people that can’t hear cause you can’t relate to it. You think if the person would just listen better, or pay more attention, that they’d be able to hear. And it doesn’t work that way. When you can’t hear, you can’t hear.” I remember when I read this transcript the first time. First, I was thrilled that Rush Limbaugh was finally sharing his experience and second, he absolutely nailed it with his observation of others showing anger/frustration with a deaf/HOH person.

I see more than what I believe a lot of people realize. From a lifetime of experience compensating for hearing loss, I read body language like I read a book and I don’t miss much. I could “see” my husbands frustration. I allowed his reaction to affect me and I was feeling bad; however, through self-talk I moved myself to a better place. I didn’t want to start my day in a negative mental state. I thought, “I have been here so many times before, I can pull myself from this place.”

I started thinking through my catalog of positives. One of the greatest positives is that I’m am married to a really caring and loving man. So we had a few minutes of bad this morning, but we have had a lifetime of loving and supporting each other. More times than I can count, he carried us through when my hearing loss created hurdles for me and I didn’t always have the tools or the energy to get over them. For example, handling all the phone calls during the years when I couldn’t successfully use the phone with strangers.

No, it is not the last time I will feel the punch of my reality, but the amount of time I allow negative feelings as a reaction to something or somebody is shrinking. Perusing positive thoughts and having had the opportunity to share my feelings I am back on track to feeling good. I’m getting better and faster at replacing the punched-in-the-gut feeling with happiness and peace and I am grateful, so grateful that these tools can be learned.