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Hearing Impaired

“Pick up the phone, Mom,” I said, dashing into the kitchen after answering our landline in the living room.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Dunno. I can’t understand what they’re saying,” I said.

When she picked up the receiver, the caller—her father—got right to the point: “She can’t hear.”

As young as I was—only six—that turned out to be partly true. And this episode marked the beginning of a lifelong journey towards self-awareness—a journey filled with discoveries, even now.

Mom took me to an ear, nose and throat doctor at the Kuhn Clinic in nearby Hammond, Indiana. I looked around the waiting room, astonished by the contents of its eight large display cases: items removed from children’s ears, nostrils and throats—everything from beans and coins to impossibly large baby rattles and open diaper pins.

Mom held my hand as we walked to the exam room. The doctor asked a few questions, then performed an otoscopic inspection—there were no beans in my ears—and pressed tuning forks to the bones behind them.

Next, the audiologist tested me, saying, “Raise your hand each time you hear a sound.”

The doctor shared the results with my mother.

“Your daughter has considerably less hearing in her right ear. It’s due to nerve damage—probably from when she had measles and a high fever earlier this year—so a hearing aid won’t help. Her left ear is completely normal. She shouldn’t need any special attention to do fine in school. You should have her retested yearly, but her hearing most likely won’t deteriorate.”

If my parents felt concerned or relieved, I never heard about it. No one at home or at school ever mentioned hearing impairment to me, so I didn’t react to it either.

Hearing evaluations became one of my annual checkups. As predicted, my hearing remained stable. I got tested so often that the various notes fired in my brain randomly (they still do). When one audiologist complained that I was raising my hand when she wasn’t playing the tones, Mom supported me, saying, “If she says she’s hearing them, she’s hearing them.” She marched me out, and we changed doctors.

Life went on, and I grew up, attended college and became a nurse. In my late thirties, I had trouble understanding a soft-spoken friend’s voice, so I got my hearing tested again.

This time, even though the ENT said a hearing aid wouldn’t help, I decided to try one. Maybe a “no obligation” ad tipped the balance; I don’t recall. I do know that when I tried the device, my hearing went from mono to stereo.

It was exhilarating to hear so much that I’d never heard before—but also exhausting. Away from home, I’d turn down the hearing aid to tune out excess street noise. At home, I’d turn it up to better hear my friends and my kids. I’d wear it for an hour or two, then take it out to rest, for days or even weeks.

When I did wear it, I marveled that I could look people in the eye as they spoke, instead of watching their lips for word clues. I had no idea that I’d been depending on lipreading. Unconsciously, I’d also adapted by walking between my friends to hear them better, and hanging out with one or two friends rather than in groups, where I couldn’t hear as well.

I’d never thought to compare my hearing with other people’s. Listening to music was not problematic, but song lyrics and theatrical productions were difficult. I hadn’t realized that I experienced these differently until I attended a performance of Rent with friends; afterwards, they enthused over the lyrics, which I’d found unintelligible. I also learned that the random tones and ringing that I’d thought everyone was hearing were actually tinnitus.

The fact that I was benefitting from hearing assistance started to sink in.

When I had an opportunity to hear Maya Angelou read her poetry, I gave the box office my driver’s license to borrow headphones. Comprehending every word was a joy—and a revelation: I finally realized how much I’d been missing.

Still, I continued to wear my new hearing aid only sporadically, thinking, I’ve been a nurse for fifteen years without a hearing aid, and no one at work has mentioned any problems. 

My graduate-school midwifery program director changed that. She sneaked up behind me, whispered some words—which I didn’t hear—then gave me an ultimatum:

“Wear it all the time. Otherwise, I’ll kick you out. You need to hear as best you can.”

After a few months, I liked wearing my hearing aid all the time; it helped me feel more engaged in conversations. Wearing it became a habit: I put it on every morning along with my earrings.

Then, when I was fifty, yet another test revealed a new aspect of my hearing deficit. The audiologist explained that my word discrimination is about half the normal rate. For example, I might think “cat” is “cap,” or “tap” is “tab.” My old hearing aid amplified what I heard, but couldn’t improve my word discernment.

This explained the lag in my engagement during conversations: People’s words came faster than I could process them, and my hearing aid didn’t compensate for this.

After spending time with a group of people, I’d always needed quiet time to recover. I’d assumed that this was because I was an introvert; now I began to think that perhaps it was because I was fatigued by trying to decipher people’s words.

The new, more advanced hearing aid my audiologist gave me was so much larger and more noticeable that I cried—until I realized how much better I heard with it.

My self-concept changed. Rather than thinking of myself as an introvert, I identified myself as someone with a hearing impairment. This led me to act on my own behalf in situations where formerly I might have missed out.

For instance, after missing a flight due to not hearing the gate-change announcement, I told the next agent, “I’m hearing-impaired. If there’s an announcement, you must come look me in the eye and tell me.” It was the first time I’d said it: “I’m hearing-impaired.”

It got easier. A typical scenario took place at a board meeting I attended, where the forty members sat at eight tables arranged in a U.

“Can everyone hear me without the mic?” asked the president. “My voice is loud.”

I raised my hand, picked up a nearby mic and said, “For people like me who are hearing-impaired, a mic really helps.”

He used the mic, so did everyone else, and I understood the proceedings very well. Several people thanked me—some for raising their awareness, and others for speaking up when they’d felt reluctant to.

Two years ago, I learned that my hearing loss could be genetic. One of my children also has a mild hearing deficit, although it’s a conductive hearing loss, different from mine. (As a child, she was vaccinated against measles, so at least that wasn’t the cause.)

In the past year, I’ve noticed having more difficulty hearing in crowds. I had my hearing tested: My right ear’s ability to distinguish words has decreased to 8 percent. Even though I already knew there’d been a deterioration, the news made me briefly weepy, as with each prior loss.

But my audiologist has a plan: She’ll fit me with “a sexy, smaller, new hearing aid” that decreases ambient noise, which should help.

I’m optimistic and eager to try it: I want to have the best hearing I possibly can.

Abbey Pachter earned her PhD in nursing from the University of Pennsylvania. Her career has included academia, clinical practice in women’s health, and healthcare informatics. In 2021 and 2023, she won Golden Nib awards for nonfiction from the Virginia Writers Club. Her book A Monarch in Winter: Biography of a Butterfly was published in 2023, and several of her stories have appeared in Pulse. “Although my hearing impairment is less severe than many other people’s, when Pulse chose ‘Being Different’ as a writing contest topic, I determined to write this story. In the process, I’ve gained important insights.”

Comments

28 thoughts on “Hearing Impaired”

  1. Ronna Edelstein

    You are optimistic! I admire your upbeat attitude and flexibility. Be well—and hear all the beautiful sounds and voices in your life.

  2. Abby…..thank you for sharing your story. I am also a nurse and knew I had some mild hearing loss. But after some years realized I wasn’t hearing well, especially when in meetings or other gatherings. They helped me though I worked in outpatient peds and frequently had to remind kids I didn’t hear so well and would need to ask them to repeat or come closer. I have found that especially with my grandchildren, their voices are soft, and they don’t look up when talking. So when driving I find it difficult to understand them. People don’t seem to get that when talking to someone, you need to look at them, hearing impaired or not. How can I possibly even hear someone sitting in front seat and talking to the window!

    1. Hi, Cindy,
      I learned that many people were taught as children that to look directly at someone was rude. So now, if someone I’m with isn’t making eye contact, I let them know that I care about what they say and that I’m hearing impaired and need to see their face and mouth as they speak to better understand what they’re saying. Sometimes that helps. It’s often frustrating for me, especially when it’s my grandkids and, like you say, it’s hard to understand them.

  3. Great article Abbey. As you and my friends know I wear hearing aids in both ears. I am almost deaf in them. I have been told and believe it, it is because when I spent 30 years in the Coast Guard, much of which was as a CW operator where I had blasting CW signals in my ears on all watches. I certainly appreciate reading your article.

  4. Abbey, Wonderful article. I love how you were able to deal with your hearing issues from such a young age. It also sounds like your Mom was very supportive every step of the way, which I know made all the difference. Your journey has spanned many years, and you have handled it all with a fierce determination and strength. I applaud your efforts as you continue to move forward in your quest to make certain you are receiving the best outcome possible! Great job!

    1. Hi, Sandy,
      Actually, after my Mom heard “she should be fine” she didn’t know what i needed until I got better at telling her & others what helped. I had to remind her and others, often. Like this: “I can hear you better if I walk (or sit) on your right side.”
      And, by the way, the new hearing aid I tried didn’t help at all. I returned it and had the older one recalibrated to my recent audiogram. It’s the best I can do. OK, now I know.

  5. Abbey –
    Thanks for sharing your experience. I know that I have a developing issue with my hearing and I should have it checked out. Your article has motivated me to stop procrastinating and find out what is going on.
    Thanks!
    Margie Belan

  6. Abbey,

    Although my hearing loss has been gradual, I can appreciate what you’ve described. Thank you for the details of your hearing history and focusing on feelings of exclusion when not actively addressing the issue.

    1. Hi, Gene,
      Thank-you. It’s no fun to feel excluded. Mostly, other people have no idea what’s going on for you since hearing loss is an invisible disability. I think there are a lot more people with hearing impairment than anyone realizes! I wonder why we often don’t let others know….

      1. Most important that people realize the many and varying causes of hearing impairment so they can get evaluated and treated asap. Thanks for the info, Abby!

      2. Abbey,
        Thank you for presenting hearing impairment issues in a very sensitive and thoughtful manner. Many people suffer, in silence, often because they are unsure of wearing a hearing aid. Your have described the progression and adaptations so well.

        Dianne Epplein

  7. Linda Carol Cobb

    Experiencing significant hearing loss from unknown causes, I can really relate to your article, which was well written and insightful. Thank you for sharing it.

  8. I enjoyed this article. I recently had a hearing test and was told I don’t have a hearing problem right now, but that some of my numbers raise questions. It is so difficult to know if our hearing problems are us, or who or what we are listening to. They don’t talk loud enough in movies or I’m just not hearing the actors.
    Discovering that hearing loss can arise from so many different causes and manifest itself in so many different ways is valuable information.
    Thank you for giving us this important story.

    1. Hi, Phil,
      I wonder what “some of my numbers raise questions” means. Hearing loss can vary by the sound frequency, so you may have more trouble at some frequencies than others. If your challenge is with TV movies, perhaps a soundbar could help. It’s an add-on device that can be adjusted to decrease sounds other than voices, making voices easier to distinguish.

      1. The test was performed by Miracle Ear which is obviously in the business of selling hearing aids. I think he was laying the groundwork for what I might need down the road. He could possibly be right. Essentially, he was telling me not to get too comfortable with my results.

  9. Abby, there were so many times as I read your story, I identified with you! I’m 64 and still haven’t made the step to go have my hearing tested. It’s mostly because I know I’m in need of a hearing aid and yet not able to afford it. Any insight on which brand to trust or helped you would be helpful.

    1. Hi, Lora,
      I’m glad you could identify with my experience of hearing impairment. There is a Chinese proverb: “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” I’d suggest you consider taking that first step. Ask your doctor for a referral to an ear, nose, and throat (ENT) doctor, one who has a PhD credentialed audiologist if possible. Have your hearing professionally tested- there should be no cost to you for being tested (check first, of course). The audiologist’s report will show a graph of your hearing- where it’s stronger and where it’s weaker. Ask for a copy of it. Ask them what to do about getting a hearing aid. There are many options today- many are over-the-counter/non-prescription and around $200. Depending on your hearing situation, this may be sufficient or worth a try, I don’t know. Some would say you get what you pay for. I’ve always had expensive hearing aids, a privilege I could afford. I’ve been told each of the big companies that make hearing aids have less expensive, intermediate, and more expensive ones, each with different capabilities, technology, and “bells and whistles”. The main thing I’d say is, don’t be afraid to try! And when you’re at concerts/theater/performances, borrow their assistive devices. Always ask. If a venue doesn’t have them, they’ll learn that they should. Good luck!

    2. Any hearing aid vendor will do a free hearing evaluation. I’ve even seen them online from “Jabra”. I don’t know how accurate these are compared with an audiologist, but might be worth a try.

    1. Thank you for reading my piece. If I didn’t have very good hearing in my other ear, I’d consider a cochlear implant. I imagine with all the younger people wearing headphones so often, there will be lots more need for hearing assistance. I hope the technology keeps improving.

  10. Abbey, thanks for sharing your experiences. Wonderfully written. Your positive perspective is encouraging for anyone with a hearing impairment.

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