Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Coffee Sign

As I was running errands this morning, I stopped for a coffee at the local Quik Trip. Without even thinking about it, I signed "thank you" to the young man who made my skinny vanilla latte. To my surprise, he signed back. I've no idea what he signed, so I smiled my doofus smile and nodded, grabbed my coffee, and made a quick exit.
Coffee

Shortly after I got my cochlear implant, I took a beginning sign language class given by a friend of mine. Learning sign language isn't much different cognitively than learning any language. You have to use and practice it often or you'll forget. Having no one to practice with, I forgot much of the things I learned shortly after the class ended. I used the ASL alphabet in my classroom with my students, finger spelling sight words for spelling practice. I also used a few other signs with them to cut down the noise in my room -- notably the help, restroom, and thank you signs. Those I remember, but other words come slower -- if anyone is willing to wait while I attempt to communicate letter by letter.

I rarely see signing being used in public. Once at a restaurant and another time at the mall. And today by the young latte maker. My daughter is quick to elbow me when we are out together and point out signers when she sees them, as if I am a part of their secret club.

But I'm not much like them at all. We are both deaf, yes. But I don't know their language. And spelling all my words would be woefully tedious for both of us. 

My tradition is oral and hearing. I am a hearing person who cannot hear. I have a foot in both worlds.

I wonder how the young man came to sign. Did he learn it because a family member or friend is deaf? Or did he just want to learn it as a second language?

I'll never know because I nearly ran myself over exiting the place. Next time I'll be more prepared.





Wednesday, November 1, 2017

It's Just Not True

I have been asked to speak to a college class of student speech-language pathologists again this year. It has again set my mind thinking about what I can tell these future professionals who will most certainly be working with children and adults who have hearing aids and cochlear implants. I'd like to tell them that the CI is a miracle in hearing technology. I'd like to tell them that hearing with a CI is an amazing experience. But it's just not true.

Sometimes I've been asked by friends to talk to people who are considering implantation. People who want to talk to someone with a CI and ask questions of someone with real-life experience -- not just a hearing doctor or audiologist who's told them they need a CI. Even though implantation is becoming more common, it's still a relatively rare thing, and most people don't know anyone with one. Talking to someone who's gone through it is comforting. I remember how scary and frustrating it was for me. I don't mind doing that. It's always a little weird at first because I'm not like a lot of recipients who sing the praises of the cochlear implant. It just hasn't been as marvelous for me as it seems to be for others. But the people I've met have been appreciative of my candor.

My hard-of-hearing life has become mundanely routine. It begins each morning with me reaching for my hearing aid. I cannot hear well enough without it to function well, so after my eyeglasses, my hearing aid is the 2nd thing I don. But the CI processor often sits in the Zephyr dryer unless I need to go somewhere or hear well while I'm in the house. Like when the hearing hubs wants to have a conversation without me asking him to repeat himself repeatedly. The truth is that I really do hear better with both devices. But it's hardly comfortable, often causing the skin under the magnet to ache, and occasionally leading to headaches, so unless it's necessary for me to hear well, it sits in the dryer until I need it. On days that I do wear it all day, there is a moment each evening where I just can't stand it any longer and I have to take it off.

And all those accessories that go with it? They sit in a box, too. I occasionally charge the remote so I can change my volume if I'm going into an unknown hearing setting. Just in case. But it usually just sits in my purse until the charge runs out and I return it to it's storage box, too. When I use accessories, it's to stream the sound to my hearing aid, not my CI. I hear MUCH better with my hearing aid than my CI.

I'd like to say that after four years with my cochlear implant, that my hearing is so much better now. But I honestly can't say that the quality of sound I perceive is any better than when I first began. I've just gotten used to it. It's still as tinny and mechanical as it's ever been. I don't hold any false hopes that it will improve with listening practice because I've been listening for four years. I still struggle with comprehension. Closed captioning has become a necessity when I watch TV, even when I stream the sound to my hearing aid. Actors have terrible enunciation. They aren't the only ones either. It's difficult to understand a lot of people because of poor and/or lazy speaking habits that blur sounds and words. And there are no closed captions to read during live conversation! I still miss a lot. I have anxiety that if I lose my other ear, the CI won't be sufficient for me to hear or understand well at all.

Cochlear implants are often touted by hearing professionals and recipients as miracle devices full of wonder and awe. It's just not true. It will help you hear. But it will be limited by your own physiology and by it's technological parameters. The struggle is real. And it's continual. And it's exhausting.

This is what you should know.