To the stranger……
by Cath Clarke
To the stranger in the changing room at the swimming pool: I’m not being rude. I’m avoiding too much eye contact in case you start up a conversation that I won’t be able to hear. For someone who is naturally friendly and willing to chat, this goes against my nature but hearing aids and water don’t mix.
To the people who invite me out for a meal at a busy restaurant. Oh how I would love to relax, laugh, chat and have fun. But all I hear is the noisiness of the restaurant. Hearing aids don’t just amplify what you want to hear – they amplify everything. That’s every other table’s conversation, laughter, clanking of cutlery as well as the one I’m sitting at …oh and any background music. In other words, it’s one big noise. Then on my table someone will say something quick and witty, everyone will laugh and I will have missed it. This is why I’m often reluctant, even scared to go out in a big group. You may go home feeling happy and elated. I often go home and cry with frustration.
To the well meaning person who at the start of a meeting will loudly say, “Come and sit on the front row where you can hear, Cath!”: as much as I appreciate your consideration, I don’t actually want to be singled out as different thank you very much. I’d prefer to feel normal, not like some kind of invalid.
To the people who speak at meetings and refuse to use a microphone for whatever reason: I think if I turned up in a wheelchair you wouldn’t refuse to let me use the ramp to have access to the meeting.
To the people I have to ask to repeat what they have just said because I’m hard of hearing: yes, you do need to raise your voice, not just repeat slowly what you just said at the same volume, and no, you don’t actually need to shout at me as if I’m stupid.
To anyone who says something to me which I miss and then I ask them to repeat it: saying, “Never mind, it doesn’t matter” makes me feel totally worthless. What you said may not have been important or worth repeating but how will I ever know that if I’m not considered worthy of hearing it?
To the people who tell me I should take up lip reading classes: yes, I’ve been there done that but did you know that to be able to lip read the person speaking has to be facing you, in the right light and not covering their mouth with their hands, turning their head away muttering or even worse, talking to you whilst walking away? Being able to lip read is a skill gathered over a life-time and even then it’s easy to misinterpret words. Telling someone they should learn to lip read is negating any responsibility on the speaker’s behalf to show me some consideration.
To the people who are genuinely surprised when I tell them that I have a hearing loss: I bluff a lot. A good percentage of the conversation will have been guesswork on my behalf so if I’ve said something stupid, it’s because I’ve misheard what you said. And believe me, I know when I’ve said something stupid: I’m quite good at reading people’s facial expressions and when I get “that” look, I feel embarrassed.
To those who think I shouldn’t bare my soul publicly: I’m not going to apologise. Just writing my thoughts down has helped me rationalise the thoughts that go round in my head and I sincerely hope this has helped someone else. I do believe we should be here to help each other and be compassionate towards each other.
To the people reading this thinking I should get a grip and not feel sorry for myself as many, many people are suffering to a greater degree than me: believe me, I tell myself that pretty much every day. Just some days, every now and again, this hidden disability gets me down. I don’t ask, “Why me, God?” I accept it’s part of who I am but it doesn’t make it any easier at times.
To anyone who’s taken the trouble to read this: thank you for trying to understand. Thank you for your friendship and concern. I’m normally fairly content and cheerful and very, very grateful for all the many, many blessings and good things in my life….but I am also human with feelings. Just like everyone else.
(c) Cath Clarke 2012
