If there’s one thing you don’t need when you have hearing loss, it’s another reminder that you have it. We get plenty of reminders throughout the day—every day—with sounds we can’t quite understand, people mumbling, and captioning that’s missing when we need it.
So why on earth would I mark my body with an inky rendition of a cochlea to remind me that I’m hard of hearing, a HoH?
For several reasons, actually.
To read the rest of this fun article, please click here to read it on HearingHealthMatters.
Do you use captioning? On TV, perhaps, or in the theater, or on internet videos? Perhaps you enjoy CART (Communication Access RealtimeTranslation) at live events?
It’s not easy to explain the simple power of turning the captions “ON” for people who have difficulty hearing the spoken word. It’s the difference between dark and light, confusion and clarity, misinterpretation and understanding. Instead of being locked outside in a storm, we’re chatting with friends around a fire.
In whatever form we use it, captioning brings the spoken word to life. It turns blah-de-blah-de-ya-da into meaningful conversation. It gives us access to people, and that’s what we’re all here for, right? So what happens when we lose the words, when there’s no captioning to fill in the blanks?
Watching the Rio Olympics for 10 days, captions told me what was going on in the events—especially helpful if you don’t understand the finer points of a sport, or the rules, or even what they have to do to win. Captioning keeps people like me in the game. Otherwise all I see is a bunch of guys or girls running around, attached to paddles, balls or bicycle handles. They’re jumping up in the air or down in the water. It’s easy enough to tell from the players’ faces and the crowd’s reactions that points have been scored or the game has been won. But when the TV camera angles aren’t good or if the camera isn’t on the commentator’s face, I need captioning.Continue reading this post on HearingHealthMatters – click here.
Actually, the shock didn’t happen right away, because I was thinking about my cool dream of being interviewed for a position as nanny for Justin Trudeau’s kids. (For those not up on Canadian politics, Justin is our Prime Minister.)
The jolt came when I realized that during this interview with Justin and his wife Sophie, I kept asking them to repeat themselves. I was hard of hearing—in my dreams! Then the second shock wave hit:this was unusual! In most of my sleeping adventures, I get what’s being said the first time, every time—no hearing loss. Like most people, my dreams are wacky—for example, I’d be the world’s worst nanny—but at least the Dream-Me communicates more easily than Awake-Me.
Why can I hear more easily in sleepy-land? Is it because deep down, I want my hearing back? (Actually, that’s not so deep down.) Or is it because in the strange world of the brain, I simply don’t need to actually hear words to understand them while sleeping. Or is it simply that I can ‘hear’ in dreamland for the same reason that I can also breathe underwater and fly in the sky merely by flapping my arms?