Tag Archive: Say What Club


This started out to be a simple post to Connect, my home list on the SayWhatClub, but grew into something more upon receiving some news that was expected, but, nonetheless, sad. I decided to post my words here instead.

It all began with my watching a wonderful TED Talk given by Dave deBronkart, entitled, “Meet e-Patient Dave” and wanting to share it with others. If you click on the link, make sure to turn on the subtitles, found underneath the pause/play button, to the right of the words: “Subtitles Available in:” Choose your language from the drop-down menu, as several different languages are available.

I’m a big fan of TED Talks, as I find them inspiring and informative, but I also like them because they are caption/subtitle friendly. However, patience may be required, as it does take a few days for newly posted TED Talks to be translated/subtitled, since those adding this feature are volunteers, but usually a talk is available in English in just a few days.

At first glance, this talk, given by a man diagnosed with kidney cancer, might not seem relevant to hearing loss, but it is very much so. Dave’s emphasis on taking charge of what’s ailing you, and the need to search for answers beyond those that your doctor provides, is far-reaching. Patients ARE the most under-utilized resource in healthcare, and conferring with other patients (referred to as “the power of patient networks”) who have ‘been there, done that’, can lead you to some of the the most effective and cutting edge treatments available. It’s amazing, the detailed information that e-Patient Dave found on the patient networks he came across. Information that cut through all of the less aggressive and less successful treatments that, had he tried, probably would have meant a quick demise. We can all benefit from adopting e-Patient Dave’s attitude and forcefulness where our health is concerned, and hearing loss is a health issue.

Speaking of “Patient Networks”, I consider the SayWhatClub to be one, as we pass on valuable information about hearing loss straight from our own experiences, but we also spill over into providing the emotional support and understanding that a person can’t find in a hearing world, among hearing people. Not even those who love us most know what life is like for us, unless they have a hearing loss themselves.

Dave also asks the question “Why is it that iPhones and iPads advance far faster than the health tools that are available to you to help take care of your family?”, and I found myself asking this same question in relation to being able to access information on finding the right technology and the right person to apply and program that technology to treat hearing loss. Why is it so hard?

One of the last stories Dave tells is about Kelly Young, a rheumatoid arthritis patient (Kelly’s blog is RA Warrior. I’ve looked at it briefly and it’s a wonderful blog!) who coincidently has a daughter who “wears powerful digital hearing aids”. A large percentage of RA patients (40%) have no visible symptoms (sound familiar?  Hearing loss is the invisible disability) which makes it hard to track the disease, causing some doctors not to believe a patient when they say they have pain. Kelly found, through her online research, a nuclear bone scan that can reveal inflammation, so she had one done. The radiologist report came back “No cancer found”, but that’s not why she had the scan, so she asked her doctor if the report could be read again, based on her reasons for requesting it. After some back and forth and repeated requests, her doctor fired her, saying “If you don’t want to follow my instructions, then go away.”, which launched Kelly on a quest to help others receive better care, to take charge of their own data, and to insist on having their thoughts and wishes heard and considered by the doctors who treat them. I’ve had my own bad experiences with audiologists and and doctors, where I’ve questioned their instructions, asked about things we might try, and made suggestions that I thought were reasonable, only to be looked at like I had two heads.

“Let Patients Help”, the end message of Dave’s talk, is a movement I need no encouragement to join, as more “warriors” are needed to take their own raw data into their own hands and make themselves heard. Who is more motivated to make a difference in their disease, disability, or course of treatment than patients themselves?  Learning to be responsible for ourselves and seeking to make tools available that will allow us to have more knowledge of those things that directly affect us is always a good idea, no matter what ails you.

The last point of relevance I considered… if you look at the video in the right frame of mind — times other than when you are down in that dark place of panic at not being able to function as you once did. A place where nothing seems more frightening than the inability to hear. A place that renders you hopeless at finding a way to live your life with little or no sound, making your loss of hearing seem the worst thing in the world that could happen to you – and apply it to the whole scope of what might cross your path in life, it can put hearing loss into perspective. Though, you really can’t compare adversities, because what is hard for one person doesn’t make what’s hard for another any less valid or troubling. However, we are able to look at Dave’s disease, one that makes him wonder “What’s my mother’s face going to look like on the day of my funeral?” and if he’ll be around for his daughter’s wedding, and take a bit of comfort in knowing that our hearing loss doesn’t threaten, in most cases, to take our life in a relatively short period of time, if at all. Or does it?

Many do allow hearing loss to take more than simply their hearing, leaving them isolated and low functioning, but it doesn’t have to be that way.  We have a choice in the matter, and, in my mind, to live less of a life than you would if you had your hearing, borders on criminal.

In reading the “about the author” section, of Kelly Young’s blog, I learned of her purpose in becoming a warrior, and she also shares her personal information, point of view, and passion.  Last, she gives us her private information, which reads: “Kelly lives in Central Florida with her husband and five children. Typically, a list of hobbies and activities would be given here to define the author’s life.  Kelly’s list has been confiscated by RA. (It formerly included various sports and crafts.) Instead she now seeks less tangible ways to define herself: She is patient, honest, and kind.”

Hearing loss doesn’t have to confiscate one thing more than you let it.  Life is so much more than what can be taken in through our ears.  The sights, smells, feelings, and tastes of the experiences that you open yourself up to are many… and that’s the KEY: Remaining open! Constantly fighting the temptation to close yourself off by placing needless limitations on what you can do. It’s not an easy task, but personally, I feel a responsibility to constantly push back against those things that threaten to isolate me. I feel compelled to do everything I can within my ability. To do less seems a slap in the face of those whose disease or disability takes more from them, as on this day.

For Brian, December 20, 1955-July 29, 2011, who fought the good fight and will be sorely missed by all who knew and loved him.

I’m attending the 2011 SayWhatClub Convention in Baltimore, Maryland — another first experience (who would have thought that at age 51 I’d still be losing my virginity in so many ways :o ) for me. As someone who has had hearing loss most of my life, but with very limited contact and experience with others who cannot hear, I highly recommend jumping at the chance to gather with others who know exactly what life is like for you. It’s a very eye-opening experience!!  Usually, I’m the only one vying for the prime lip/speech reading vantage point in a group setting, where there will be key speakers, but when I stepped into the hospitality room at the hotel on Wednesday night, I realized everyone else probably had that very same skill (doing everything physically and visually possible for the best success at understanding what is being said) kick in as they entered the room.  It made me smile…

I’ve had the pleasure of taking part in some great workshops here at the convention, and the last presentation yesterday was given by Jane Schlau, Ed.D., a former SayWhatClub’er who lost her hearing over a two year period. Since that time, Jane has earned a doctoral degree in education and is currently the Principal of St. Mary’s School for the Deaf in Buffalo, so you can safely assume she has learned to cope amazingly well, but she will tell you it wasn’t at all an easy road to travel.  As I listened to her story, I saw myself in the challenges she came up against, and also in her initial lack of response to those challenges due to doubt, uncertainty, and the freakishly frightful panic we often feel when faced with the realization that we aren’t getting anything that is said.  It’s that panic that works to keep us from hearing and understanding anything — the proverbial wrench in the workings of how you fill in the blanks to hear and understand in the absence of hearing — and that panic is something everyone with hearing loss has to learn to deal with if they want to move beyond doing “nothing”.  In my opinion it’s the most important thing to overcome when faced with any obstacle.

As part of Jane’s presentation she had us do a “Left Hand Column” activity where we outlined a recent and difficult hearing challenge on the left hand side of a handout she provided, and then on the right hand side we wrote what our reaction was.  The following is one of Jane’s examples:

LEFT HAND COLUMN (What I’m thinking):  ”I wish I knew what to say; I wanna say something; I wanna participate.  I know as much as these folks.”

RESPONSE (What I said or did):  ”Nothing”

I was already feeling emotional as I began to fill in my own “Left Hand Column” handout, as I related to so many of the things Jane was thinking and had done nothing about.  I’ve gone through much of my life, just like Jane, knowing I’m just as smart, just as capable, and just as worthy to participate, yet hesitating to respond because of not wanting to feel embarrassed or stupid, and not wanting to interrupt, slow things down, or stop the flow of conversation.  This is something I’ve improved upon, but am still working at… (I’m not sure we ever master it fully, as there will always be new situations where we feel anxious — that’s life!)  I’m a work in progress.

My eyes filled with tears as I wrote on my own left hand side of the paper, and what I did in response:

LEFT HAND COLUMN (What I’m thinking):  ”It’s another noisy family gathering; everybody is talking and laughing, even the kids, but I can’t keep up;  I can’t follow anything that’s being said.  I so much want to be a part of it.”

RESPONSE (What I said or did):  ”Nothing”

Just reliving such a scene in my mind made me cry, but what I realized is something else that Jane touched on.  There are certain times when “Nothing” is okay.  That there are events so noisy and impossible to follow that no amount of repeating or rephrasing will work in our favor.  At this last family gathering, I turned the corner and decided that the visual of the people I love — interacting, laughing, talking — was enough, as I got so much more than what came to my brain through my eyes. I knew they were all talking about music and telling stories I had probably heard before, and it was just enough being with them, seeing them laugh, smile, and have a good time with each other.  Don’t get me wrong, being able to hear and participate would be so much better, but I’m not going to let the lack of that ability rob me of what I can take in and embrace.  On a different day it might have been too much to bear and I would have had to leave the room and busy myself with other things, but on this day it was enough.

As everyone finished with the activity Jane had assigned, she had a few volunteers read what they wrote. I so wanted to feel confident enough to raise my hand, but my emotions were so close to the surface I knew I couldn’t do it without crying, so I did nothing.  Clearly I’ve much more work to do.  I think we all are works in progress and will continue to face new uncharted territory, as you can never know exactly how best to respond in every single situation, but it’s not necessary.

Living with hearing loss is a learning process, just like anything else, and I’m up to the challenge of moving farther down that road.  I think many of you are too.

So, when our next SayWhatClub Convention rolls around and you are on the fence as to whether to attend, go ahead and jump over to the “Yes!” side and register.  It is so nice to meet others who are taking the bull of hearing loss by the horns and wrestling him to the ground!!  That doesn’t mean that son-of-a-gun won’t rally to put you on the defensive again, but when you witness that there are others who are continually facing every day with little or no hearing and doing just fine, it somehow gives you the strength you need on your worst day and let’s you know you are not alone.

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