I grew up as a hearing ear child. My mother was born totally deaf in one ear and often wouldn’t hear what someone said if she couldn’t see their face, or if they were on her right hand side. She had taught herself to lip-read as a child but lip-reading only works if you know the person is speaking to you and you can see their face.
So, as the oldest child, I slid into the role of interpreter, nudging my mother when someone was addressing her without her realising, explaining what someone had said if she mis-heard and generally cringing with embarrassment about the whole situation. Only recently have I seen clearly what my role was. No-one decided I would do this and no-one asked me. I wasn’t trying to be helpful; I just needed to deal with the misunderstandings and awkwardness.
As an adult and in the past decade my mother’s carer, I have re-adopted this role deliberately, encouraging my mother to tell doctors and other professionals that she is deaf, explaining to these people that I will help with communication, and all the more so since eyesight difficulties have made it difficult for her to lip-read and increased the sense of isolation.
Because deafness is invisible. If no-one knows, they are likely to assume the deaf person is rude or stupid when they appear to ignore a remark or give an inappropriate answer. And growing up with this disability can result in elective isolation and extreme shyness, as social situations are so difficult.
People who lip-read don’t need anyone to shout. In fact, shouting can make it even more difficult to understand. They just need to know they are being addressed and to be able to see the person’s mouth. Turn away for a moment or hold your hand in front of your face when you are speaking to a hard-of-hearing lip-reader and you are effectively cutting off communication.
We need to start a conversation, to get this out in the open so there is more understanding, because deafness has remained invisible and somehow shameful for far too long. You only have to see the TV advertisements for ‘hidden hearing aids’ that no-one will know about, and compare them with the changing fashions in spectacles, to grasp this. We have a long way to go.
I ask every single one of my clients if they are deaf. A surprising proportion answer that yes, actually they have this or that hearing impairment. I suspect that not a single one of them would have volunteered this information if I had not asked. If you are reading this and meet with clients on a one-to-one basis, perhaps you could adopt this habit too? No-one has ever told me they are offended by the question. People with good hearing just say ‘no.’
And now I know what it is like myself. For the past few years I have lived with tinnitus. An incessant, loud ringing in both ears. The tinnitus is in between me and everything I hear. It doesn’t bother me, never ever keeps me awake and causes me no stress, except in social or work situations when it prevents me from hearing clearly. I find myself avoiding noisy environments just like my mother used to. It’s not the end of the world and, of all people, I know how to cope, that it is not a failing to have to say, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,’ even several times. But yes, it can be embarrassing.
Let’s start talking about hearing. Everyone deserves to communicate, to understand and be understood. To hear and to be heard. While we continue to sweep deafness under the carpet, while those who struggle to hear continue to deal with embarrassment and feel the need to hide their situation, nothing will improve.
