Category: Hospital Accoommodation


Sometimes when I go to doctor’s offices or hospitals it happens that I have to take my hearing aids out.   For example, when I see the Physical Therapist, I know I may want to take my hearing aids off when he massages my neck.  I have a case in my purse that keeps them safe from water, oil, and dust.   Occasionally the request to remove my hearing aids catches me off guard.  Like yesterday.

I had to have an MRI.  The technician took me to a small room, instructed me to undress and put on a gown.  My personal belongings were to be placed into a locker.  You can bring the key with you, she explained.

“What about my hearing aids and glasses?” I asked.

“Keep them on.”

This surprised me, since the MRI was going to be done on my neck.  If I had been thinking clearly I would have realized.   Ten minutes later  she asked me to remove my glasses and hearing aids, and to place them on a counter.  Loose.  Out in the open.  In a hallway.

This has happened before during out patient surgeries.  “I’m just going to put them over here on the counter,” the nurse will say.  Loose.  Out in the open.  Near water and chemicals.

“You do know they cost thousands of dollars?” I will ask, “and if you lose them or damage them with water or if someone accidentally scoops them up with a paper towel and throws them away, it will cost the hospital $6000.00  to replace them?”

This is almost always met with a gasp.  They didn’t know.

My hearing aids are worth more than any of my things back in the locker.   They are worth more than a pair of diamond earrings.   You wouldn’t want your diamond earrings sitting out in the open, would you? Because someone might steal them.  I am not sure if people steal hearing aids, but you can never be too careful.  I would guess a desperate person might steal anything that could be sold at a pawn shop.

Hearing aids are even more valuable than the $6000.00 replacement cost I mentioned, because they represent weeks of painstaking programming.    They may be  irreplaceable.  It is a known fact that one hearing aid may not sound as good as the next, even when they are the same brands and models.  Hearing aids are like cars.  Sometimes you get a lemon.

So it pains me to see medical staff treating a pair of hearing aids like a small Happy Meal toy.

“You can just put them right here on this counter before you go inside.”

I try to look at it from their point of view.  A pair of hearing aids look like nothing more than shapeless little globs of plastic and rubber-in most cases colorless gray or beige.  Mine are zebra striped, kidney shaped with pinkish blobs of rubberized ear mold material attached.   Most people are shocked by the cost and don’t know about the weeks of programming.   That’s why those of us who wear hearing aids must speak up.  Medical staff won’t learn if we never say anything.

“You want me to put them here on this counter?  Out in the open, in the hall like this?  You do realize they would cost $6000.00 to replace?”

<gasp>

 In my soon-to-be-published novel Lip Reader, a church pastor goes out of his way to make sure his deaf congregants understand the music and sermon. He uses sign language while preaching. The music is interpreted through sign and a loud beating drum. Any deaf person visiting this church for the first time would likely feel a connection with the other deaf people there.

Most of us are aware that a Deaf culture exists. Simply visit a state school for the deaf, and observe students and teachers communicating mostly through American Sign Language (ASL). Or sit in on a coffee house “chat” with a local Deaf social group, and notice how quiet the room is while attendees use sign. The Deaf culture is something its participants are proud of, a culture with a shared ASL language and communication style that goes back many years.

Now observe a local meeting of a hearing loss support group. The keynote speaker communicates with both sign language and orally. A man sitting in the back relies on an ASL translator to understand the speaker. A row of people read real-time captions from an overhead screen as a person types what the speaker is saying. Two women sitting up front watch the speaker’s lips attentively to catch each word spoken. All of these people, except the sign interpreter and typist, are hard of hearing. Yet they all have different ways of communicating and understanding one another.

Without a shared communication style, can individuals with hearing loss really have their own sense of community or culture? Readers of this blog recently shared their opinions…

“I have total hearing loss in both ears. But because I was adult deafened and am oral and do not use sign language, I am not considered culturally Deaf, rather hard of hearing. Yet I am “deafer” than 95 percent of the students at the local state school for the deaf who have some residual hearing. I am in between cultures. I cannot participate in the hearing community, nor the Deaf community.” – Sherry Mason, Missouri

“My husband has hearing loss, and it is very difficult to hear in restaurants and other public places. I think people who don’t deal with hearing challenges are unaware of the obstacles they create. Is that cultural?” – Amy Hemingway Smith, Texas

“How about coming up with a definition of ‘culture?’ And with some parameters for what you mean by ‘hard of hearing’ people? Do you mean only people with partial hearing loss who use speech (and maybe speechreading) to communicate? I’ve been assuming you are distinguishing between Deaf people (who use sign language) and hard of hearing people who don’t, but not everyone will realize that. Also, I still think that only people who socialize with several oral hard of hearing people at the same time can really answer the question. People who have never done so aren’t in a position to know themselves whether or not there is a HOH culture–they won’t have seen it in action.” -Dana Mulvany, Washington, D.C. (has hearing loss)

The last comment raises a good question. How can a hard of hearing (HOH) culture be defined?

  • A shared communication style. They prefer to speak orally, instead of only using sign language. Lip reading (also known as speechreading) is also a common way to understand one another.
  • A strong reliance on technology. Hearing aids and assistive listening devices are available to help the HOH population understand speech and hear important sounds.
  • A strong reliance on closed captioning. Captions assist with understanding television, movies, and (when available) live presentations. This could also fall under the technology category.
  • Emotional connection. This would include not always feeling connected with the hearing world because of difficulty understanding speech. For those not comfortable with sign language, they may not feel part of the Deaf culture. Emotionally, individuals with hearing loss might feel somewhat isolated from the hearing and/or Deaf “worlds.”
Sound Off
If a hard of hearing culture does exist, what do you think defines it? Post your comments here and on the Lip Reader Blog: http://shannagroves.blogspot.com.  

Author Bio:

Shanna Groves is the author of Lip Reader (June 2009 release), a novel about an Oklahoma family’s hearing loss experiences during the early-1980s. Read the Lip Reader Blog at http://shannagroves.blogspot.com.

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