Thursday, November 08, 2007

I Feel Broken...



My hearing test didn't show much change, but like I said in my last post, my hearing-aid is on it's death bed. Bicross hearing-aids are still available as analog, but the cost is near 2 grand. Digital bicross are about 3 grand. I can't afford either one. I went to orientation for a state agency hoping they can purchase the aids for me. That will be a long paperwork process and then they could reject me.

I was awake half the night thinking about all the crap that has happened to me. Stuff that was related to my hearing loss.

I still remember the bullies from high school, how I finally got the nerve to stand up to them. I challenged an entire gang to a fight, that was my after-school extra-curricular activity.

And I remembered friends telling me I was awarded school sports awards because everyone felt sorry for me. What kinda friends were those? And who needs em?

Then I thought about the more recent crap. How my co-workers bullied me and mocked me. How it pushed me to the brink of suicide. That shit is scary. Freaking scary!

Then there was Billy.

I've tried to write about him, but it is so hard. I must have hurt him so bad. He was in the same nightclubs I was, but he was too weak to tell me himself. He would send a bartender to tell me he was there. But I couldn't hear her. Another time, at the same bar, he sent his daughter over to talk to me. I couldn't understand her. And I hadn't seen her since she was maybe 10 years old. So I didn't recognize her either.

It didn't end there. No.

I was hiking a local park. I had jus climbed up a small hill where the trails intersected. This old old man passed by jus as I reached the top of the hill. He looked to be 80, frail and bent over as he slowly walked by with wisp of white hair left to the wind. He looked familiar. I turned and watched him until he was out of sight, and wondered if he would reach the road.

I didn't know it was Billy.

I stopped into the bar for a beer and sammy. An old man, all bent over, shuffled to a barstool with the help of a middle-age man. An Irishman making his "last call," I thought. He drained one beer, then slowly gathered himself up and departed. "God bless ya," called out the barkeep.

I didn't know it was Billy.

You see, Billy and I were friends from years ago. We lost track of one another. He recognized me and tried a few times to reach me. But my hearing let me down. Actually no, I let myself down. I did all the wrong things when I couldn't hear the barkeep or the daughter. I gave a yes or a no when actually I didn't hear what they said to me. I was frustrated from trying to hear in a crowded noisy bar. So I took the easy way out, figuring it was some kind of mistaken identity.

Billy died 2 days after making his "last call" to the bar.

The service was on a Saturday. On Friday evening, I stopped into the bar. I struggled to finish one beer. It was too emotional, so I got up to leave. The barkeep rushed over and handed me a token.

"It's on Billy," she said.

I scratched my head like...whatdafu? A dead man bought me a beer?

Come Saturday, there was no viewing at the wake. But I recognized the daughter...and the son. I knew I'd seen them before. At the same bar. It started to click, the sick old man, omg, that was Billy.

Billy wasn't 80 years old. He was 46. He had lupus. It ravaged his body.

If I knew my hearing would cause this much pain, I would have offed myself years ago. I live with this burden everyday.

Broken.

Friday, March 30, 2007

HOH Word Association

At MyHearingLoss web, I asked for friends to suggest words/phrases associated with their own hearing loss experiences. I made minor edits for clarity purposes. Remember, this list has been composed by people who are hard-of-hearing, not profound deaf. Feel free to add your own or comment.


HOH WORD ASSOCIATION


1. Achievement
2. Agony
3. Alone
4. Anger
5. Angry
6. Baffled
7. Best
8. Better
9. Blank look
10. Blissfully quiet
11. Bored
12. Brainless
13. Brave
14. Brave
15. Calm/tranquil
16. Canny
17. Complicated
18. Computer
19. Confident
20. Courage
21. Creative
22. Days
23. Depressed
24. Desolate
25. Disconcerted
26. Discrimination/discriminated against
27. Dream
28. Dreamstate as your body can not feel what you can not hear
29. Dumb (sometimes)
30. Dying to know what's going on
31. Emails
32. Embarrassed
33. Expected to know everything when you haven't been told about it
34. Facing my fears
35. Family
36. Fatigue
37. Fear(3f’s)
38. Feeling stupid
39. Feeling totally alone
40. Foiled
41. Forum
42. Friends
43. Frown for absolutely no reason.
44. Frustration
45. Frustration (#1)
46. Gullible
47. Happy
48. Having no privacy (need interpreter/helper for communication)
49. Helpful
50. Humorous
51. Imagine
52. Inadequate
53. Intelligent
54. Isolated, even from the ppl that know better/love you most
55. Isolation
56. Jittery
57. Logical
58. Lonely
59. Modest
60. Nervous
61. Panic
62. Peaceful
63. People make decisions for/control your life
64. Perseverance
65. Played cruel "jokes" on
66. Proud
67. Prudent
68. Puzzled
69. Rattled
70. Real
71. Resourceful
72. Sad
73. Satisfaction/pride in oneself proving ppl wrong, who said you couldn't
74. Savvy
75. Self-doubt
76. Sharp
77. Shrewd
78. Shyness.
79. Smart (sometimes)
80. Strength
81. Strong
82. Sudden
83. Support
84. Terrible
85. Thwarted
86. Timid
87. Torment
88. Ugly
89. Uncertainty
90. Unimportant
91. Unique
92. Wise
93. Witless
94. Worse
95. Worthy

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Every now and then, I put up a story about my hearing loss adventures. The purpose being to demonstrate for those with hearing difficulties that they are not alone, and to educate their family and friends about what a hard-of-hearing individual experiences.


Off Key

I recently learned that my sixth-grade music teacher passed away. That reminded me of the time I sang in defiance because of my hearing loss.

Our elementary school consisted of kindergarten through sixth-grade. There were two separate sixth-grade classes. Both classes assembled in the gymnasium for chorus practice. We were singing patriotic songs like The Star-Spangled Banner when the music teacher became upset.

“Who ever is making that screeching sound?” she demanded. “Who is it?”

A couple of the guys looked at me, but I didn’t think I was the one. I reached for my hearing-aid box and turned down the volume. Maybe the aid was squealing from feedback, I thought.

“Okay then,” she groveled, “we will start over.”

And so she led us off with the national anthem. She started walking amongst us, intently listening to each and every student.

Still one row away from me, she yelled, “Stop, Jim will you come forward please.”

I stepped out in front of the chorus not knowing what to expect.

“Jim, I’d like you to sing the national anthem for us.”

“B-b-but umm,” I stammered.

“No buts son! Just sing for us.”

“Uh n-n-no, I can’t.”

“Was it you making that awful noise?” she inquired. “It was you trying to disrupt my class, wasn’t it?”

“No ma’am, not me.”

“Then why won’t you sing for us?”

My gaze dropped to the gym floor. My voice nearly a whisper. “Cuz . . . I umm, I don’t know all the words.”

The gym filled with laughter. Then class was dismissed. The following week I was instructed not to attend chorus anymore. No reason forthcoming.

Even though I was currently taking weekly speech lessons, I didn’t really believe anything was wrong with my way of speaking or singing. When youngsters grow up with a partial hearing loss, they don’t realize how they are speaking different from all the others. I pronounced the words the same way I believed others spoke them. I stubbornly insisted that I spoke perfect English.

There was one other person who didn’t participate in chorus. Her name was Nina. She was an ill child and needed lots of study time to catch up. So she worked one-on-one with our classroom teacher while the rest of the class participated in chorus. I, as the intruder, was set-up with reading/writing compositions or math problems to solve. So much fun, huh?

Come June was graduation from Elementary School. I finally get to escape this living hell for another hell called Junior High. But first came the ceremony. We assembled in the gym to go over the event; who would speak, when to get your diploma, and practice the songs we would sing as the graduating class.

“Sing? No way!” I protested.

My classroom teacher stood before me, with the music teacher peering over his shoulder.

“But Jimmy,” he pleaded. “The entire class is going to be on-stage singing, even Nina.”

“Nobody liked my scr-E-E-E-ching, remember?” I added, with arms folded.

“Well, why not stand on-stage with your classmates and just mouth the words?” suggested the music teacher. “Besides all the parents want to see their child participate. If you don’t join the others, you’ll have to sit down front by yourself while they are singing.”

“You kicked me out and now ya want me to fake singing,” I shouted. “You didn’t even try to help me, or work with me. You humiliated me in front of the entire chorus. Then you just booted me out . . . with no explanation! I’m not singing! I’m not faking it either!”

Right up until the actual event, they tried to persuade me otherwise, but I wouldn’t budge.

And to this day, I still don’t know all them words to the national anthem.