Juliet England: My new year’s hearing loss resolutions

As part of the recent festivities, I felt grudgingly obliged to stay up beyond midnight to see in the brand-new year, and, inevitably, I asked my friend about their resolutions for the 12 months ahead.

‘Work harder, go to the gym,’ he said.

I immediately launched into a diatribe about those were no good as resolutions, since they weren’t specific enough. Goals need to be measurable, specific, time-related, realistic and achievable, I insisted smugly over the prosecco.

But it got me thinking. What about making some very specific resolutions with regards to my hearing loss as 2019 gets underway?

It was surprisingly easy to think of a few – no doubt far easier than actually sticking to them will prove to be. So, here goes. My 2019 cloth-ears pledges.

1.) I will stop apologising

Sorry, I’m a bit deaf. Can you say that again? Why do I keep doing this? Why on earth do I feel the need to apologise for not being able to hear properly?

After all, I’m the first to become irate if I explain I am deaf, and get a mumbled ‘Sorry’ by way of a response.

It’s neither cool nor necessary, and my hearing loss is no one’s fault. It’s just a biological quirk. So, henceforth, no more apologies, and I will no longer feel bad if I have to ask someone to repeat something.

2.) Hearing aid maintenance

Now I confess I’ve always been something of a slouch in the hearing aid care department. But, from now on, I do solemnly promise to clean my moulds and keep them free from raindrops, make-up and all other manner of gunk.

I cringe to admit I’ve never really mastered how to change the tubes myself. Not only will I learn to do this, I will ensure the task is completed with sufficient frequency. Regular and thorough cleaning will also be undertaken. By me.

I will even place my aids on a tissue when they’re not being used, to keep them free from dust and grime. Hell, I’ll even use that little magnet on the end of the cleaning brush to keep my greasy dabs off the batteries.

Crucially, I will also never leave home without the things firmly wedged in my lugholes, even if I am just running out to the shops. After all, I could run into that actor off Bodyguard, who may well hang out in my part of Reading.

3.) Learning the loop

I keep meaning to have another bash at the old induction loop. Again, it’s a mystery why I have not tried harder at this, given that I am the veteran of countless frustrated and frustrating cinema, theatre and social evenings and many an encounter with someone behind a partition.

In a further instance of my generally slack approach, I’m not even sure which setting on my hearing aid is the right one for such a device. But, in 2019, I will finally work out whether a loop would be any good for my kind of hearing loss.

4.) Learn more sign language

Excruciatingly, my knowledge of BSL is currently limited to the signs for thank you, tea and coffee. This somewhat limits conversational opportunities with a sign language user when I am not expressing gratitude for a warm beverage, or, I guess, asking someone if they’d like me to stick the kettle on.

If I am honest, with regret, I am not sure I have the funds or the time at the moment to attend a full BSL course. But I can certainly learn a few more signs, even if only via a YouTube video. I resolve firmly to do this.

5.) I will be more open

I know I am guilty of sometimes being reluctant to discuss my hearing loss with others. If I am honest, occasionally the effort of doing so and then having to politely answer questions about how long I’ve had useless ears, and so on, and so on, can seem too much. But that has got to stop.

Oh, and finally, when I haven’t heard something, despite numerous repetitions, I’ve been known to try and reduce the tension (and wind up the person I’m talking to) by sniggering ‘Oh, you should have said!’ (There have to be at least five repetitions of whatever I haven’t caught for this to happen.) This just confuses some people, even if those same people have recently undergone a comprehensive sense of humour removal procedure.  But, anyway, I am committed to this not happening again.

I’m also tempted to resolve to report back and check against progress this time next year. After all, one of the easiest resolutions of all will be to continue to write for Limping Chicken.

Read more of Juliet’s articles for us here.

Juliet England is a hearing-impaired freelance writer.