Hearing Aid

The year is 2017. We receive an all-staff email informing us that a company will conduct free hearing tests at school. I'm getting one. Any chance for me to get above 90% on a test, and I'm there.

To my dismay, the test took place in the resource room of the library. VHSs and DVDs lined shelves, old Herald Suns lined the tables, and a wide array of miscellaneous never-to-be-used cables poked out of beige tubs.

I sat before an iPad and placed the communal headphones over my ears.

"This isn't a real hearing test," I think. Of course, whatever results ensue will be wrong. An iPad and Big W headphones do not a valid hearing test make.

It all seemed to be going so well. I heard the sound; I touched the screen. I heard the word; I repeated the word. Simple.

Then came some words I wasn't expecting to hear for roughly another 40-odd years.

"Oh, you're deaf."

"Um, I don't think so."

How could I be? I teach every day. Somebody would have said something by now. I wouldn't be able to hear myself when I'm on stage.

"Let's book you in to have a full audiology report done and see how you go."

"OK. Sure," accompanied by an eye roll was the internal reply. I took my appointment card, said thank you and walked out.

A wave of excuses permeated my thinking. Not one week later, I was suffering from a hideous sinus infection, viral laryngitis and a chest cold that felt like I had Gak poured over my lungs. Remember Gak? This was my saviour. I only failed this test because I was sick. There could be no other valid reason.

A month or so later, I went in for the full shebang. I entered the soundproof booth and felt like I was in the final round of Family Feud.

The same routine followed. I heard the sound; I clicked the buzzer. I heard the word; I repeated the word. Now, this is where it got tricky. They started to change the frequency of the sound and played it at different intervals. I could see the audiologist click the button, so I decided to cheat the system and click my clicker shortly after. Smart, right? No. She knew exactly what I was doing.

The audiologist entered the booth and placed something behind both of my ears. At this point, it became incredibly tricky to hear. White noise was pulsating from these buds, and I could barely think.

She sat back at the computer, and beeps and words and combinations of letters were played along with the buzzing white noise. Do you think I could hear a gosh darn thing? Nope. But I thought that nobody would be able to hear anything in a situation like this.

I exited the booth and sat next to her desk.

"So, the results show that you are profoundly deaf in your left ear, and your right ear has quite a bit of loss, too."

"Oh, really?" I questioned.

"How do you feel? I know it's a lot to take in."

"I just don't feel like I'm deaf. Like, I can hear."

"Well, what strategies are you putting in place in your classroom to deal with this?"

"I'm not putting any strategies in place because I'm not deaf…."

We discussed my mother's hearing loss and how it could have happened to me. Swimming and cold water, loud noises, ear infections. Apparently, it's not hereditary, and it can't be reversed. I must also mention at this point that I still didn't agree. I wasn't deaf. I mean, what would trained professionals know, right?

I told a few friends about this, and they laughed at the situation, too. My scepticism in these tests was bolstered by abundant replies of "you're not deaf". Well, at least that's what I think they were saying.

The only good thing about this appointment was that I entered the draw to win an iPod and a $100 Woolworths voucher. Note: I didn't win either.

2018 was quiet.

At the beginning of 2019, I received a call from the same audiologist to see how I was travelling and to ask if I could come in for another appointment. Cheryl, a lovely woman, booked me in, and Michelle was to be my audiologist.

The same thing happened—headphones, noises, sounds, beeps, clicks, etc. I exited the booth.

Michelle sat open with a puzzled look on her face.

"How are you functioning in society?" she asked.

"Quite well, Michelle. How about yourself?"

I didn't quite know how to respond appropriately because, again, I'M NOT DEAF.

Michelle suggested I try a hearing aid for a week: no cost and no obligation to buy. I decided to give it a try to put this to bed once and for all.

As we flicked through the well-designed hearing aid brochure, I quipped at the unnatural state of the models.

"He's too handsome to have a hearing aid."

"I just know she has excellent hearing."

"It's a problematic stereotype that all the elderly have hearing aids."

We were approaching the end of the brochure, and I could see Michelle becoming jack about my indecision.

"People usually get the colour of their hair."

Easy. Great. Give me guidelines and criteria, and I can make an assessment, Michelle.

"I'll have the black."

She paused, cocked her head and replied in a way that cut to the core of my very being.

"Oh, you don't want the silver-grey?"

First of all, Michelle, how very dare you.

Not only had she confirmed my profound deafness not 10 minutes prior, but she was also playing into my insecurities about ageing.

Thirty-one, deaf, and grey. What a combo, hey? I'm still single.

Anyway, I got the hearing aid, and it's pretty great. It makes quite a difference, and apparently, I was deaf. Who knew?

For all of those people who think I'm a tad pitchy when I sing, you're probably right. But I have an excuse. Don't feel bad for picking on a deaf person… FEEL TERRIBLE.

It just goes to show how amazing the brain is and how it can train itself to work in not ideal situations.

When people ask me how I didn't know, I tell them I don't know what I don't know. The loss wasn't sudden; no traumatic experience brought it on, and I thought I was doing just fine. I'm sure there are many things that you don't know about yourself until you have to know them, and that's one of the great things about being human – we're always learning.

Anyway, I've been telling this story for the past six months. I should probably put it to bed because my friends are getting sick of it. But my advice to you is to go and get your hearing tested.

Ask questions if you're as confused about this situation as I was. I may not be able to hear you, but I'll give it a try.