Tag Archives: hearing loss

Life Lessons Over Lunch

16 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by in Cochlear Implant and Hearing, sound, Uncategorized

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“I have the same problem with understanding conversation in a noisy environment.”

I met with a friend over lunch yesterday. We’ve known each other for at least 4 years, and our visits usually take place in one noisy restaurant or another. I enjoy her immensely, and we’ve talked about many different topics over the years. She has known from the start that I am deaf and hearing with bilateral cochlear implants. I have periodically made reference to my hearing in the context of one thing or another, but at lunch, while discussing the search for employment, it took on a different tone. Ultimately, it taught me old lessons through a new lens.

It is immeasurably difficult to explain adequately what it is about my struggle to filter out noise in order to hear speech (conversation) that is different from the struggle of the person who has difficulty hearing in noisy environments but has otherwise normal hearing. My friend asked me if I’d consider working as, say, a waitress in the bar and grill we were sitting at right at that moment. I proceeded to explain that though I’ve done that sort of work in the past and am not opposed to it in principle, I probably would not pursue it because a key aspect of the job is to take food and drink orders and I cannot count on being able to reliably understand all the details of the order provided by the customer. The background music, conversation around us, the overall noise level creates significant challenges. Even if I were to be successful most of the time in not needing a lot of repeat information or making a lot of errors, I am aware from experience the level of cognitive fatigue I would endure simply from the kind of intense and focused listening and lip reading that would be involved. I know that not only would that exhaust me physically, it would exhaust me mentally, and if I were to need to do other intense listening activities outside of work, my mood might be altered to the point that I would become irritable and unable to modulate my responses to external stimuli ONLY because of that cognitive fatigue. It would become a quality of life issue.

I tried to say all that face to face, but I don’t think I got it all out, nor do I think it would have made that much difference. Why? Because my friend has only her own experience, which is to struggle with hearing conversation in a noisy environment as a normal hearing individual. That’s her reference point and she cannot be expected to relate to a completely foreign experience, i.e. to hear electrically with bionic technology. One of the things I started to tell folks I mentored through the cochlear implant process is that I no longer spend a lot of time trying to describe what it sounds like, initially as well as in later stages, to hear with cochlear implant technology. It is not possible to understand unless you’re hearing with it yourself. The issue of hearing in noise as a hard of hearing person who wears hearing aids is somewhat similar. We use the same language to describe it, yet again it is different from my experience with cochlear implants.

I also took note of the fact that I was becoming somewhat defensive. I took my friend’s insistence that I can do this, that everyone struggles with the same problem, as an attack on my ability and willingness to pursue all reasonable options for employment. We discussed this, and she was able to help me see that she was just trying to understand. I appreciate her curiosity and willingness to stick with it all the way through. Many will not even care enough to try. However, it really is not something that is entirely possible to resolve. The message for me is that I must continue to build on my internal strength, to know and love not only my strengths but my limitations. Good life lessons over lunch.

Photo: cochlear.com

Sights, Sounds, and Memories

14 Monday Dec 2015

Posted by in camping, Cochise Stronghold, Cochlear Implant and Hearing, death and dying, healing, recovery, sound, Spirituality, Travel, Uncategorized

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2015-10-13 16.19.55I had the great pleasure of hiking and camping in mid-October at the Cochise Stronghold campground, in the Dragoon Mountains within the Coronado National Forest in southeastern Arizona. I arrived late morning, and enjoyed a hike before setting up camp. At 5,000 feet, it gets chilly once the sun sets at that time of year, but the granite walls and sheer cliffs that surround the campground act to reduce winds that might otherwise make tent camping a bit uncomfortable overnight. With virtually no chance of rain, and little to no perceptible wind, I was able to enjoy a rain tarp-free experience, hunkering down into my sleeping bag as I peered through the mesh of my tent and watched the sky darken and fill with stars. At early morning, I was able to view the sky as it lightened and the sun came over the cliffs, the stars fading from view. I shared the entire campground with just one other camper. He arrived about an hour before sunset. I had two thoughts when he pulled in: “aw, I thought I’d have the place to myself tonight!”, and “should I be concerned?” My gut said it would be fine, that he was just camping out like me, and I was correct. We spoke briefly upon his arrival, then went about our respective business.

I had been sitting and eating my dinner when he pulled into the site. As there is no water whatsoever at that campground, I didn’t attempt to cook rice or pasta or anything that would’ve made excessive demands on my water supply (cooking and cleaning). I boiled some water, first for coffee, which I enhanced with a shot of bourbon, and then boiled more water to heat up a food packet filled with a tasty Indian spiced side dish. With that, some crackers and nuts, and the brew, I was set. While I ate, I wrote down some of my thoughts and feelings about the recent death of an old friend. Betty and I met when I was at college in upstate New York. The mom of the young man I became engaged to (but did not marry), we were close for many years beyond that time. I felt like an extended family member for a long time. Circumstance and distance changed things about 10 years ago, but we remained friendly, with my link to her eldest son keeping me abreast of developments when her health took a serious turn for the worse. Pancreatic cancer ultimately took her from this life. She died a few days after I started my journey, days before I arrived at this stronghold. I felt her presence as I sat on the bench, eating my simple meal and writing about her, about who she was as I understood her, and about her influence on my life. She taught me many things about relationships, family, devotion, and the little things that people do for each other to show love. She had a faith in God that I did not fully understand, yet I loved being around that part of her, because I felt like whatever it was that made her so special was intricately woven by that fabric, and I hoped it would rub off on me. I think it did, somewhat.

I heard so many birds calling as sunset came to the campground. Earlier in the afternoon, there were two woodpeckers nearby just having a ball, flitting here and there, banging away at trees, squawking, looking askance, I’d swear, at my feeble attempts to photograph them, to capture a focused shot or two. As I listened to the sounds around me, I remembered how thrilled Betty was for me at the success of my first cochlear implant, the technology that has allowed me to hear again after decades of severe hearing impairment. A musician, it must’ve saddened her more than she let on that I was losing my connection with the hearing world, especially with music. So as I retired to the camp tent for the night, I reflected on how much she meant to me, and how she made me feel like I mattered to her, and how cheered she would be to know that I could hear all those marvelous, musical sounds in the natural world again.2015-10-13 17.27.25

Sh’ma

19 Sunday Aug 2012

Posted by in Cochlear Implant and Hearing, Spirituality

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I attended Chevra Torah (bible study) at Temple in Greensboro this morning. I don’t get there as often as I’d like, as I currently reside nearly an hour away. I prefer to make the drive with my friend Jayne, so that we can enjoy what I refer to as our post-Chevra session. The group is large and very different from the experience I had with a study partner several years ago. It has many merits but there is not usually the allowance for in-depth discussion of one or two finer points. That is my study preference, and one I can engage in to a greater extent in the car with my friend on the drive home. She could not join me today, so I was left to mull things over without the benefit of friendly discourse.

An aspect of today’s Torah portion that was of great interest to me was consideration of a single word: hear. One of the best known Jewish prayers is the Sh’ma:

Sh’ma Yis’ra’eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad. Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One. (Deuteronomy 6:4-9)

The word Sh’ma means to hear. It also can be understood as to obey, as well as to listen. Rabbi Andy led the group in considering the shades of difference between hearing and listening. I was apparently bobbing my head with much more energy than I would have had I been aware of myself. I do not like to draw attention to myself at these gatherings, and with few exceptions am extremely quiet during discussion. This is a product of two factors: fear of tripping over my tongue and not articulating my thoughts well, and tending to focus on one aspect of a discussion and not making rapid transitions from one aspect to another. Even though I can follow a large group discussion with a good deal of accuracy, thanks to my cochlear implanted ears, I still am not a major player in group discussions. But Andy walked over to me and said Yes? I see you’re relating to this? I replied: OH yes, one hundred percent! I live this! I don’t know if he thought I merely meant this in the sense of hearing versus being deaf, and of course there is that element. After all, I am deaf without my cochlear implants and lived the greater part of my life with significant hearing loss. When I was profoundly hard of hearing and without the benefit of cochlear implants (or hearing aids for several years) I was a complete failure at hearing. However, I was an exceptional listener. As a result of using every bit of data available to gather information—beyond hearing whatever I could, reading expressions became my lifeline–I was fairly good at understanding the messages being sent to me.

My exuberant expression of recognition this morning was about more than the functional aspects of hearing and listening. Jokes are often made about certain individuals having “selective” hearing. He or she is accused of hearing what is of interest and conveniently missing the undesirable messages. The ones made at the expense of spouses and partners are usually greeted with loud chuckles and knowing glances. Underneath the smart aleck humor is often a great deal of pain: one does not feel that they are being heard by those closest to them.  I have often been thanked for listening intently to what another is saying. Although the hard of hearing among you may smile with recognition: well of course she does, she has to read their lips! But you know what? I don’t have to anymore, most of the time. I have been given an incredible gift: the ability to hear in reasonably quiet environments without hanging on to the speaker’s every lip movement, every facial expression. However, I find that I connect most deeply with another when I show by my physical actions that I am fully present. I also find that maintaining that practice means a greater chance of being successful at it. I propose to my normal hearing friends that while you may indeed have no difficulty hearing another speak while you have your face averted, you may be unwittingly diverting your attention from the other. In doing so, you may be missing out on the more nuanced aspects of hearing and listening, and depriving not only the other but yourself the deeper connections that make life so rich and satisfactory.  I believe that there are many ways to practice meditation. One needn’t sit cross legged on a cushion to develop the ability to be fully present in the moment.

We also touched upon the concept of seeing versus looking this morning. Andy gave an example of a You Tube video that apparently went viral some time ago. The gist of it was that instruction was given to closely watch some kids playing a game-basketball or volleyball, I think. In the background, but in plain sight, there is an image of a bear walking through the scene.  Apparently there are many people who are so focused on watching the game that they completely miss the bear until a second viewing or until someone points out the fact of the bear in the video. A classic example of missing the forest for the trees! This led me to thinking about what I see when I look up to observe trees silhouetted against the sky. Have you done this? Viewed through one set of “lenses” one can see that there are branches, needles and leaves. Perhaps one notices birds perched or sitting on nests, water droplets and butterflies. Switch the lens and one can see the sky, the clouds, perhaps some fog or drizzle or bright sun. One might observe leaves loosening from branches, falling to earth, or birds taking flight against the blue or grey sky.  Viewed in totality, one can see how all the parts have their place in the scheme. Nothing is superfluous. In the practice of looking and listening comes a greater capacity to see and understand. Everyone needs a reason to get up in the morning. This is mine.