At five years old I had to undergo a common procedure to put tube-like devices into my ear canals to drain fluid into my stomach. It’s so common among children to have this procedure performed that it takes roughly an hour to perform and has a next to perfect turnout. The tubes come out on their own in a few years.
But I’ve had three sets, varying in color and size since I was five years old. All of these surgeries have caused scar tissue to build up around my ear drum, making sounds muffled or nonexistent. My parents always knew I was due for a doctor’s check-up when I would raise the volume on the TV or wouldn’t respond to anyone who wasn’t looking directly at me. It became normal for me to use my hands to talk and get people’s attention. I didn’t think anything of it, at least until I had to start going to school.
When I was in kindergarten, I had to sit close to the teacher and be reminded to pay attention. I already have a short attention span and am still easily distracted, but having the disadvantage of not being able to hear the teacher call on me was a whole different playing field. My teachers had to use visual cues to get my attention. My friends learned when I wasn’t hearing them. My family figured out what frequencies I would respond to and what frequencies didn’t exist to my ears.
I remember being eight years old and getting home from my second surgery for my tubes. My aunt bent down next to me and whispered into my ear, “Can you hear me?” I could hear her, I could also hear her when she spoke normally and I could hear her whispers before my surgery. She back pedaled and said that she just wanted to make sure that I was okay and that they were working. That moment is what solidified the knowledge that I had of society’s perception of people who are deaf and hard-of-hearing (HoH).
In school, I had to sit up front or close to the teacher/board. My parents did all the hard work and every year when I got my class list, they would send a note or call the teacher and tell them my situation. The teachers were always courteous and respectful to my parents. Some would go the extra mile and ask me where I wanted to be seated and what I wanted to do for my hearing. During swimming class, I had to wear special wax ear plugs that came in four different colors. I knew how to corkscrew them and stick them so that they would stay before I knew how to tell time on an analog clock.
Some days the tubes would irritate me and I would dig at my ears until they bled. My dad had to come down to my elementary school more than a couple of times. My parents explained to the nurse to just clean up my ear, place a cotton swab inside and send me back to class when the bleeding stopped. Some days, normally around the time before a surgery, my ears wouldn’t drain the fluid and I would have to go to school with a cotton swab tucked in and special ear drops to dissolve the fluid and send it the other direction.
When I came to high school, my parents didn’t call the teachers and explain my situation. I was 14 years old and got my third set of tubes in. I could hear perfectly, some days. By this time the scar tissue wasn’t a problem. Some days were better than others, but I still persevered. I stopped wearing the wax ear plugs during swimming class and stopped taking the ear drops. At this time, I had become pretty good at reading emotions on faces and body language as well as lips. I became observant and learned when something was important or not. I started listening to music more and when I was in my junior year, I joined chorus. I learned to feel the vibrations of the song instead of the sounds.
When good things come, so do bad. I had to learn to live with people making fun of me for cotton swabs in my ears. I had to and still have to deal with people asking if I’m deaf or dumb if I don’t hear them. I prefer to have the TV on in the background because I can’t hear it most of the time, but also because it stops my ears from ringing in silence. I prefer, or sometimes have to, have subtitles on movies and TV shows I watch. Sometimes when I listen to music, I don’t hear the lyrics most of the time. When I’m at a party with my friends, I talk with my hands or text because I can’t hear them. When I talk to people for the first time, I have to concentrate on their voice so it doesn’t get lost in the sea of noises that is background noise.
