‘Simply different’
There is a story about a concerned husband who consults a doctor regarding his wife. He goes: “Doctor, I think my wife is deaf because she never hears me the first time and I always have to repeat things.”
“Well,” the doctor replied, “go home and tonight stand about 15 feet from her and say something to her. If she doesn’t reply, move about five feet closer and say it again. Keep doing this so we’ll get an idea about the severity of her deafness.”
The husband goes home and does as instructed. He starts off standing about 15 feet from his wife in the kitchen as she is preparing dinner and says, “Honey, what’s for dinner?” He hears no response. He moves five feet closer and asks again. No reply. He moves five feet closer. Still no reply. He gets fed up and moves right behind her, about an inch away, and asks loudly, “Honey, what’s for dinner?” The wife replies, “For the fourth time, adobo!”
The story may be funny, but I can relate with it. . . I have a hearing disability. And just like the husband in the story, I was in denial at first and would point to others as deaf.
Then one day, I feared I might be losing my hearing after all. At first I noticed I would often get irritated and ask people to repeat what they had just said. I also started missing high-pitched sounds and became aware that other people seemed always to speak too softly. Then the “s” and “th” sounds became unclear. And when the voices of my own wife and children turned less and less clear to me, I finally accepted my situation and saw a doctor who diagnosed me with partial hearing loss.
Frustration soon grew in and around me. I avoided situations that put me on the spot like group conversations or social interactions with friends and relatives, where I would feel left out or out of place. It did not take long before I withdrew into my comfort zone. . . I became a semi-recluse.
Eventually, through prayers and with God’s grace, I took my hearing loss as a challenge after a friend inspired me with a sharing of his wife’s experience.
I then adapted to my situation. I discarded self-pity and went into an attitude change. If people took pity on me as someone with a disability, I looked at myself simply as different. If others refused to wear hearing aids because they are ashamed, I proudly wore mine. And when meeting people for the first time, I would tell them right away that I have difficulty in hearing and could they please speak slowly. I would point to my hearing aids and then politely asked them to please repeat what they had just said.
Today, I do not let my hearing loss get in the way of my enjoying life and indulging in my usual activities. I now watch movies again on TV—although only those with subtitles. I read books on my Kindle and articles on the internet. And I write essays occasionally.
Most of us, I am sure, have met people who have hearing loss. What can we do to facilitate communication and avoid miscommunication? Let us remember that the person before us is struggling and may feel insecure just talking to us. We must try hard to understand by being kind. Speak slowly, loudly and clearly without having to shout. If all else fails, try doing sign language or better yet, use visuals like a printed image or a written word. Let us employ whatever means we have in order to understand and be understood.
We can learn from a doctor who uses a nonconventional method to communicate to his patients who have hearing loss. Once he realizes that a patient is hard of hearing, the doctor takes his stethoscope and ceremoniously places the earpieces into the patient’s ears. With the other end in his hands, he speaks slowly and clearly into it like a microphone, enabling the patient to hear him clearly. For the most part, his patients find the role reversal hilarious but effective.
For me, it also shows respect for his hearing-disabled patients whom he considers as simply different.
Danilo G. Mendiola, 75, is retired from corporate work and now serves with his wife in the Marriage Prep Ministry of their parish in Quezon City.
