Rebecca A Withey: A positive audiology experience for my daughter and I (BSL)

Being part of the deaf community, the topic of going to the audiology department is one that stirs up a lot of emotions. My friends and I tend to complain about our audiologists lacking in deaf awareness and we share stories of all the incredulous things we’ve experienced at audiology appointments.

Even to this day, I have never met an audiologist who can sign. There’s been times where an audiologist has called my name out at reception whilst wearing a face mask and they’ve even spoken to me from behind, expecting me hear them (!)

One private audiologist once frustratingly exclaimed “just listen harder” when I stated I couldn’t make out what she said from behind me.

All of the subconscious messages I picked up from my audiologist growing up were that I was wrong, flawed, broken, not good and in need of fixing. I ‘failed’ the hearing test. My hearing ‘deteriorated.’ People looked sad and worried when they told me what my deafness level was. They even called my deaf-er ear the “bad one” and referred to my other ear as the “good one.”

At such a young age I was picking up on messages that said it was bad to be deaf and good to be hearing. It isn’t any wonder that even now I still feel a vague unease when I’m around audiology departments.

I suppose audiologists know a lot about the ears but very little about what it means to be deaf, and more specifically – deaf culture. Who can blame them, really? Audiologists approach deafness from the medical viewpoint as this is where their training comes from. And from the medical perspective, our deaf ears are – to borrow their words – ‘impaired.’

Yet I recently had a very moving experience at a children’s audiology appointment. It was my daughter’s hearing aid review and whilst I still felt that familiar nervousness, I have always been determined to make my daughters audiology visits positive ones for her.

After checking into reception, I met my sign language interpreter and together we waited for my daughters appointment. After a little while our audiologist was ready and we were called into the tiny soundproof room with those heavy, clunky metal doors.

As the audiologist asked questions, I let my daughter answer, prompting her and filling in the gaps where necessary. Growing up, I can’t remember ever being asked a question at audiology. We never had an interpreter either. My parents always spoke for me and the audiologist would address them directly.

When it was time for my daughters hearing test I relaxed and let her do what she needed, joking afterwards that I wouldn’t be able to hear anything and told her that no matter what she did a good job. I didn’t want her to feel bad for not hearing some sounds, I wanted her to know that it was okay not to hear.

After the test my daughter was fitted for a new hearing aid – her favourite part – and we laughed about the unusual but oh-so-satisfying sensation of having the new mould taken out of your ear. Let’s just say, if you know – you know!

She was then invited to choose her hearing aid and mould colour and she browsed the pages of decals, colours and glitter options before deciding on a royal blue glitter mould with a pale pink aid.

Back in 1994 when I was my daughters age, I was not given any kind of choice relating to my hearing aid. Hearing aids were all big, bulky and beige. Boring. The ear moulds were also clear which meant any ear wax eventually turned it an unsightly orange or brown colour. Yuk.

No wonder I never wanted to wear them!

At the end of our appointment the audiologist explained my daughters latest test results. Whilst the results in her right ear were similar to before, they had been able to confirm that in her left ear she has absolutely no hearing with potentially no nerves. The audiologist frowned and immediately I picked up on her concerned vibes. My childhood anxieties were rising.

“Does this mean a hearing aid would never benefit that ear?” I asked. The audiologist nodded. She told me that if we wanted to investigate the cause of her deafness and find out why the nerves had not developed, she could refer us to a medical team to get onto this right away.

I turned to my daughter and asked her if this was something she wanted.

“Do you want to know why you’re deaf?” I asked.

“No thank you,” she smiled.
“I already know.”

Intrigued by this response and I asked her “So, why are you deaf then?”

My daughter replied in the most easy manner,

“Because God makes us all different.”

She said it so matter of factly and as though deafness really isn’t a big deal. Even as I write this I feel moved by the acceptance my daughter has towards her deafness and relieved that she doesn’t have the identity struggle I had at that age.

I am glad that she doesn’t see herself as needing to be fixed and I am glad that she sees her audiology appointments as mere ‘hearing aid shopping trips’ and an excuse to go to the hospital shop and get a Freddo Frog chocolate bar.

I suppose I had always been anxious that my daughter might pick up on all the subconscious messages I picked up on growing up. But judging from her response and how she takes it all in her stride, I needn’t have worried.

In all fairness the audiology experience for children today is a lot different compared to the 1990s. Hearing aids are more fun. You can put a decal of your favourite football team or Disney character on the mould. You can even do games and use toys for your hearing tests instead of just sitting in a soundproofed ‘post box’ alone.

I’ve also heard of audiologists who can sign and those who are deaf/hard of hearing themselves too!

And so, I’d like to think things are changing.

If the audiology experience can be a positive one for our deaf children, we can equip them with the best technology whilst embracing their deafness, language and culture. That way they can have the best of both worlds and feel confident in who they are.

Rebecca Anne Withey is a freelance writer with a background in Performing Arts & Holistic health. She is also profoundly deaf, a sign language user and pretty great lipreader. She writes on varied topics close to her heart in the hope that they may serve to inspire others.