Today, as I sit here typing in my living room with the balcony door open and the vaguely blue sky outside and the sunshine trying to fill the room with light, I am very thankful.
Two months ago my Pa had a heart attack and today when I saw him on FaceTime for a morning coffee chat with him and Ma, he looks like a different person. He has colour in his face for the first time in a year or more, he's a new person.
Until my Pa had a heart attack, I didn't realise that life after one could be dramatically better than life before one. How dyno-rodding the heart of all the gunk meant that for the first time in ages he can walk without getting out of breath or feeling pain.
The day my Pa had his heart attack, I was flying to Rotterdam to see Fab Friend. He and Ma insisted I go. And so I did. Sitting in the departure lounge I suddenly wondered if I was doing the right thing, and so I FaceTimed Ma for reassurance. She was brilliant. Just seeing her face and lip-reading what she was saying was enough to get me on that plane and on my way to having a lovely time with Fab Friend.
I FaceTimed The Rents quite a bit over the weekend – using 3G, not always wifi and it was clear and easy to hear them both. And that's what I'm thankful about today. I'm thankful at how much modern technology has changed my life. I'm thankful that in an emergency, my Pa can FaceTime me from his hospital bed so that I can see everything he has to say rather than press the phone to my ear in a vague hope of understanding. I am thankful that I could What'sApp pictures of his notes over to FJM's sister – who's a heart expert don't you know and get instant feedback. I'm thankful that SuperCathyFragileMystic was also on the other end of FaceTime for hugs and virtual cuddles with her and my gorgeous goddaughter.
One of the things I really struggled with as a teenager going deaf was the isolation of it all. I couldn't do the long phone chats with friends and there was no other way of keeping in touch with them outside of school unless it was in person. I couldn't do the whispers in class, or at sleepovers in the dark, or on the minibus on the way to matches. I'd got used to being in my own world for a lot of the time.
These days, I am never isolated – not unless I want to be anyway. I can FaceTime, What'sApp, SnapChat, Facebook or Tweet people without needing a scrap of hearing. I can book restaurants online, book hotels, book flights, book theatre, buy things, return things, ask things, bother companies for better services for deaf people – all without a scrap of hearing.
And for that I am very thankful. Thankful for the company, the independence and how easy these things are now becoming. And I'm excited, because they can only get better right?
Happy Friday peeps
Wednesday, 18 March 2015
Working from home makes me do odd things.
Things like eating an entire packet of Rich Tea biscuits without even noticing and working my way through some horrendous Spotify suggestions because I refuse to pay for the Premium service as really, it’s basically falling on deaf ears.
However, today’s procrastination project quite possibly took the biscuit, the very last Rich Tea in fact.
Today I decided to try a Spotify instrumental of a song I know the words to and I recorded myself on PhotoBooth on my Mac singing it…
Why? Well, I can tell you one thing, it wasn’t to become a YouTube star called Deaf Girly Sings – although actually, if I wasn’t so anonymous, that might not be a bad plan – it was to see how bad my voice sounds when I sing.
So I sang along to Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran, which is one of my favourite songs at the moment while Spotify produced a perfectly acceptable instrumental version of the song to sing along to.
And can I sing? Well, I’m not really sure as I don’t know whether I hear what most hearing people hear. But all the windows in the flat and crystal glasses are still in one piece so perhaps it wasn’t completely horrific. And I didn’t see any neighbourhood cats running for cover either.
Seriously though, I would love to be able to sing. Sing in a way that people liked to listen to. Sing in a way that when you were singing along to music in your car you didn’t have people wishing they were in the car next door. And singing in a way that didn’t result in your boss writing you a post-it note (albeit a lovely cute one) requesting you not to harmonise to the Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s version of Under a Bridge or she was going to have to jump out of a window.
In fact, if a genie popped out of my Turkish tea pot that’s currently bubbling away on the stove right now and said you can choose between two things, a perfect singing voice or perfect hearing, I would honestly have to go away and think about it, because as we know from The X Factor auditions, perfect hearing doesn’t necessarily give you a perfect singing voice.
When I was six and more hearing I was pretty obsessed with music. I was desperate to play the violin and my Ma finally realised how serious I was when she found me with her guitar under my chin attempting to play it with a pencil for a bow.
But what I didn’t realise then was that making the notes wasn’t guess work. For most people they were audible.
At 18, while practising for my grade 8 flute – which I did get, albeit not with startlingly great marks – I realised, having lost a chunk of my hearing two years previously, that I needed to build on my audio memory as much as possible. And each night before I went to bed, I would play middle C on the piano in my bedroom and then the A above that and sing them, locking them away in my head so that pitch was always there. So that even if one day I wouldn’t hear them, they would be in my head. For my flute this was brilliant as I just mentally transposed everything I was playing down an octave and my grumpy mermaid in Reinecke’s Sonata Undine sounded more like a disgruntled baby hippo to me.
Anyway, as I get back to the proper task in hand for this afternoon – writing – and delete the file called ‘DG sings’ for all of eternity. I can safely say that today’s procrastination activity certainly ranks up there with weird things to do when alone in a flat. But if you know of anyone who can teach people with a hearing loss to sing – Gareth Malone, a new documentary perhaps? – please drop me a line as it’s up there on my lifetime achievements wish list.
Happy Wednesday peeps
Monday, 16 March 2015
This morning I had an opticians appointment to check my contact lenses.
Being a girl of very little hearing, I am always quite anxious about looking after my eyesight, particularly as I am already really shortsighted. Shortsighted to the point where if I didn’t have my contact lenses or glasses on, I would be unable to see anything beyond a few blurry shapes.
So anyway, I’ve recently changed opticians and today was my first appointment at the new place. Once there, I explained I needed to lipread or have really clear hand gestures to show me where I needed to look. It’s amazing how similar ‘Look up, down, left, right, blink’ etc sound in a dark room even when I do have my contacts and hearing aids in – and the optician was great, waving his hand in each direction and speaking slowly and clearly.
He then took out my contacts to do some eyeball-checking tests and started to talk, which of course didn’t work at all as I couldn’t even see where his head was anymore, let alone what his lips were saying. Cue much scrabbling around for my glasses.
Next, I went and did a nerve test. For this I had to wear a patch over one eye and watch a screen and click a button whenever a white dot appeared. I failed the test as the assistant doing it had forgotten that I needed my contact lenses in for this test to see and that I needed to be looking at him to hear. It was a total car crash – I was almost fast-tracked to a nerve specialist as the results basically said I was dead.
However, once we had established the test instructions and restored my vision, I realised it was basically a hearing test for my eyes and as I sat there clicking away at the now-visible white dot, it made me realise how amazing it is that I can be so horrifically shortsighted and have this made completely perfect with contact lenses or glasses.
Thinking back to my bleep tests at the audiology clinic, I know for a fact that a bleep test with my hearing aids in would not product a score of 100% or even close.
Hearing aids don’t make everything perfect. They enhance and add another dimension to what I hear but they don’t give me the equivalent of 20/20 vision.
And that got me thinking about the day that perhaps hearing aids will do this. A day where I can put on my hearing aids and they give my ears what my glasses give my eyes.
Wouldn’t that be amazing?
But in the meantime I remain incredibly happy that at least one of my senses can be restored to 100% and the other one? Well as I’ve said many times before, I’m more than fine with it for now.
Happy Monday peeps.