Dear Abby

I spotted this in my newspaper this morning. I can't recall encountering this type of reaction before, but I can see how some people could respond ignorantly. Have any of you experienced this before?

Dear Abby: My 16-year-old son, “Victor,” is hearing-impaired. He wears hearing aids in both ears. The aids are small and not easily seen.

Recently we were in a new doctor’s office, and the nurse was talking to my son but looking in another direction. When I explained that Victor is hearing-impaired and couldn’t hear her, she replied, “Oh, I know teenagers — selective hearing.” I said, “No, he is hearing-impaired and wears hearing aids.”

The same thing happened at summer camp. My husband said Victor has a hearing problem, and the counselor responded with, “So I need to smack him on the side of his head to get him to listen?”

My son has informed people he wears hearing aids because he can’t hear well, and he still gets the same smart-alecky retorts. Have you any suggestions?

Not Being Flippant
in Pennsylvania

Dear Not Being Flippant: Oh, yes. The nurse in your doctor’s office was tactless. If she didn’t apologize for her comment, you should have mentioned it to the doctor so he could educate her not only about hearing loss, but also about diplomacy. As to the ignorant camp counselor, your husband should have immediately reported it to the camp director.

After reading your letter, I consulted Dr. Rick Friedman at the House Ear Clinic in Los Angeles, who told me that approximately one in 2,000 children is born with hearing problems. (There is a genetic component, and hearing problems can run in families.) Being subjected to loud noises can also have a negative impact on hearing, and Dr. Friedman said studies are being conducted to determine to what extent.

Only Child, AMPHL conference, and a rant

Sorry for being MIA! I've been in and out of town every week! My mouth has healed up wonderfully, though. It was so much easier than I expected it to be! Honestly, by the 2nd or 3rd day, my arm was hurting (from the IV) much worse than my mouth was, In fact, my hand and wrist are still sore nearly three weeks later, not sure why that is? I've never had such pain after an IV before, but oh well! It's nice to be able to eat again!

I just got back from moving my sister into her dorm in college. It was so weird driving home without her; I keep expecting her to walk into the room at any given moment. I miss her so much, but we'll still talk to each other all the time so it will be fine!

For those of you interested in the program I mentioned in my previous post,  I interviewed a few of the other attendees and posted it on Deafteens.org. Check it out! They're a pretty great group!

I also recently attended a conference in Portland as part of the Association of Medical Professionals with Hearing Losses. I wasn't sure what to expect and thought it might be a bit awkward since most of the people there would be, well, medical professionals (and not high school students), but everyone was very friendly and welcoming. I learned a ton, and I started a post about it when I got back. I need to find the notes I took so I can give some of the specific stats I think some of you might be interested in hearing. I could relate to so many of the stories and experiences shared at the conference It was very helpful, but also a little daunting. I realized then more than ever that the challenges never really go away.  Now, don't get me wrong- I didn't expect to magically have normal hearing when I turned eighteen or anything, but I just hoped it would get a little bit easier. It seems that the majority of medical and nursing schools have limited or no experiences with disabilities. I realized the fierce determination required to make it through medical school. I'm well aware it's not easy for someone without hearing loss, but for someone with hearing loss, it's just that much harder. I can do it! As much as it frightened me, it also got me pretty excited for what the future holds.

I start school Monday. New school. Huge. Still in denial.

On a semi-related note, I really hope I live to see the day that schools are more receptive and open to helping students with hearing loss (as well as other disabilities). It is long past due for the general hearing public (or, more specifically, school administrators) to stop being ignorant and stop hoping that we'll just go away. Some progress may have been made but we still have got a long way to go. A person's ability and potential should never be limited by what a school feels like providing or what is most convenient for the teacher. The current system is only failing us. It is only failing me.

I swear, as each year passes, I lose more and more faith in the educational system. Something needs to change, but I don't think I can fight anymore.

Quick Udpdate

I know I have some comments and messages that I need to respond to. I just got back in town yesterday from AG Bell's Leadership Opportunities For Teens program, and I had a blast. It was such a powerful, emotional experience that I will blog about in much more depth later because I just had my wisdom teeth out this morning. I was doing well but now all the numbness has worn off and it feels like I have been punched in the jaw about 50 times, so hopefully the pain medicine will kick in soon! Promise I'll write more soon!

Failure

The title does *not* reference a CI failure of any sort.

Remember my freshman year?

Remember how hard I fought for accommodations? How much I struggled?

And then remember sophomore year? How I barely got any sleep? How I accepted the fact I'd just have to work harder than everyone else? How I figured if I just studied hard enough I could make up for what I missed in hearing?

And remember that one class I took for the past two years? I literally spent hours nightly slaving over the textbook reading, carefully taking notes- hoping that what had been discussed in a class of 50+ students would instead be absorbed by reading and rereading the material.

At the end of the two years, I took the national exam. It doesn't really serve much of a purpose besides the opportunity to receive college credit. Basically "testing out" of a college course. It's a culmination of all the work you've put into the class, giving you reassurance that yes, it was worth it.

I didn't think I'd done very well, but I hoped for the best. Scores came in the mail in rounds. I heard as more and more people received their letters and received outstanding scores. They never studied nearly as much as I did, so I thought maybe all my studying would pay off.

It didn't. I didn't just "not do as well I'd hoped"; my score was nauseatingly bad.

 Maybe some people would shrug it off and think "better luck next time."

But I'm not like that. Instead I reflect. I overthink.

I always thought that if I worked hard enough, I could achieve anything. But maybe that's not true at all. Am I completely out of my league? If I did this miserably bad on an exam with a class of 50-something kids, how in the world can I handle competitive college classes that can be 5, even 10 times bigger, let alone years of medical school?

Have I completely overestimated myself?

Don't get me wrong, working hard has gotten me far. On the surface, I'm doing pretty well. I hear and speak, by most standards, well. Working my butt off and barely getting any sleep has allowed me to stay in the top 5% of my class (for now).

Is it even worth it? Where is this going to get me? Are my standards just set too high? If I feel so burnt out now, where am I going to be five, ten, twenty years from now? Will there ever ever be a point where I can look back and comfortably say, "it paid off."?

It just bothers me because I feel like I'm capable of so much, yet every time I try to reach my potential, I can feel the painful hands of hearing loss trying to pull me back. Actually, I can't even completely blame it on my deafness, but, more accurately, society's refusal to adapt to it.

It seems like it would be so much easier to just be average. To be satisfied at the idea of simply passing a course that's on grade level.

But for now I carry on, chin held high, slowly placing one foot in front of the other. My life is so much more than a test score.