This week, I haven't been wearing my hearing aids. I've been enjoying the comfort of my new glasses without the additional hardware behind my ears. And mostly I've got by OK.
But there have been some noticeable times when I've struggled – mainly in shops at the till when paying. It's been so long since I've struggled with this that I'd kind of forgotten how hard it used to be – the 'Would you like a bag?' question, the random conversation they've been told to make by management, the payment chit-chat and the where-the-heck-I-want-them-to-put-the-receipt conundrum.
With my hearing aids, I tend not to have too much trouble with this.
Today however, was an absolute car crash of mishearing. In Uniqlo, I'm surprised I managed to get out of there without my face exploding in a big red embarrassed mess, while in Marks & Spencer, I tried to plan ahead as much as possible about what I might be asked and still didn't get it right. And then I started to flap, and I almost walked straight out of Oliver Bonas with an empty bag after I hadn't realised they were still gift wrapping what I had bought. And no one thought my strange behaviour was because of my deafness, they all just thought I was totally bonkers. Which actually is highly probable on reflection.
One good thing to come out of this is that not wearing my hearing aids this week has really made me appreciate what they give me when I do wear them – often without really noticing. They take my 2D world and make it 3D and they also remove a lot of the angst involved in everyday tasks that I experience without them.
And I can honestly say that I will NOT be going shopping without my hearing aids again. There's only so many times a shop assistant can repeat a question without both you and them wanting to curl up into a ball and die.
No more so than a few weeks ago when I was skiing – without hearing aids as I get feedback in my helmet – and went to the ski hire shop to get some skis. The man had a strong French accent and was a bit grumpy looking.
'What's your lover?' he said, as I tried to stay upright in my newly tightened ski boots.
'My what?' I said, looking at him in panic.
'Your lover,' he said, adding a Gallic shrug for good measure.
I looked blank.
'Your skiing lover! Tell me your skiing lover?' he continued, looking at me like I was a complete moron.
I went through the word again and again in my head, replacing bits of it to see if I got a more feasible word and eventually cracked it.
'My skiing level?' I asked.
Yes I'd got it eventually but not before he and everyone around me thought I was a total moron.
So if you ever serve me in a shop and I look like a rabbit caught in headlights every time you say something, I promise you I am not stupid, I am just deaf. And overwhelmed. And still blushing from the skiing lover mix-up thing.
Happy Thursday peeps.
DG
x
Showing posts with label lipreading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lipreading. Show all posts
Thursday, 12 February 2015
Tuesday, 28 October 2014
Deaf Girly and the Step class
Today I went to the gym for my usual lunchtime workout where I don't talk to anyone, interact with anyone or hear anything. My hearing aids come out and I just zone out for one hour. It's bliss.
But as I walked in today, there were the tokens for the lunchtime classes sat by the towel bales and for some reason I picked up a token for a step class.
I usually avoid classes – especially ones I have never done before like step as I find them so hard to follow and always end up making a complete fool of myself. And so, as I was throwing on my kit hastily I was having a mental yell at myself for being such an idiot.
The tiny optimist in me suggested that I might enjoy it. That I might follow it and that it might be OK. So gripping onto that thought, I headed into the already full studio.
Everyone had set up their step. There was very little space left. In fact, the only space left was a bit of the studio floor that was a bit shonky and that according to the instructor who was extremely bouncy and bit shouty, 'YOU WEREN'T ALLOWED TO JUMP ON'.
'But see how you get on and move if it feels too dodgy' he said cheerfully before adjusting his sweatband and getting on with the class.
Honestly, I looked like a newborn foal on acid but I did try very hard. And for that I think I should get a gold star. And what's more – I actually enjoyed it a little bit, too. I enjoyed zoning out and following the moves of the instructor.
OK, so I was about half a move behind him constantly as I had no idea what he was yelling down his head microphone. But it was 45 minutes of pure escapism. Of spoon fed exercise. Of just doing what everyone else was doing.
Has it made me braver about trying other classes? Quite possibly yes. I mean, I'm not sure I will ever try Body Pump without a friend to tell me what weight I should be using when, but Step was simple. You got on the step. You got off the step. You waved your arms around. You looked like a complete nutter.
Well I did anyway.
So if you were at my gym at lunchtime and wondered who the girl was dancing slightly out of time with no clue what was going on, refusing to do any of the jumping moves for fear of crashing through the slightly shonky bit of floor. That was me.
I looked good eh?
Happy Tuesday peeps
DG
x
But as I walked in today, there were the tokens for the lunchtime classes sat by the towel bales and for some reason I picked up a token for a step class.
I usually avoid classes – especially ones I have never done before like step as I find them so hard to follow and always end up making a complete fool of myself. And so, as I was throwing on my kit hastily I was having a mental yell at myself for being such an idiot.
The tiny optimist in me suggested that I might enjoy it. That I might follow it and that it might be OK. So gripping onto that thought, I headed into the already full studio.
Everyone had set up their step. There was very little space left. In fact, the only space left was a bit of the studio floor that was a bit shonky and that according to the instructor who was extremely bouncy and bit shouty, 'YOU WEREN'T ALLOWED TO JUMP ON'.
'But see how you get on and move if it feels too dodgy' he said cheerfully before adjusting his sweatband and getting on with the class.
Honestly, I looked like a newborn foal on acid but I did try very hard. And for that I think I should get a gold star. And what's more – I actually enjoyed it a little bit, too. I enjoyed zoning out and following the moves of the instructor.
OK, so I was about half a move behind him constantly as I had no idea what he was yelling down his head microphone. But it was 45 minutes of pure escapism. Of spoon fed exercise. Of just doing what everyone else was doing.
Has it made me braver about trying other classes? Quite possibly yes. I mean, I'm not sure I will ever try Body Pump without a friend to tell me what weight I should be using when, but Step was simple. You got on the step. You got off the step. You waved your arms around. You looked like a complete nutter.
Well I did anyway.
So if you were at my gym at lunchtime and wondered who the girl was dancing slightly out of time with no clue what was going on, refusing to do any of the jumping moves for fear of crashing through the slightly shonky bit of floor. That was me.
I looked good eh?
Happy Tuesday peeps
DG
x
Thursday, 9 October 2014
Deaf Girly and the lipreading mishap
Today I fell through a door backwards.
Crashing into the ladies toilets, I landed on flat on my back and found myself staring at the ceiling.
And the reason for this unfortunately mishap?
I was lipreading the person who was behind me, so turned around to hear her and leant against the door of the toilets to open it, at the exact same time as someone was opening it from the other side.
Honestly, I think she was more surprised than I was. I mean it's not everyday you open a door to find someone propelling themselves backwards at you.
Luckily she stepped aside, as otherwise I would have most likely taken her with me into my heap on the tiled floor. But as I lay there for a moment, blinking at the bright lights and feeling slightly winded, I couldn't help but reflect on just how risky lipreading on the move is.
Take the time I was walking through a car park with a friend and flik-flakked over a low wall that I hadn't noticed because I'd been looking left at my friend instead of straight ahead.
Or the time I almost broke my nose on a lamp post that came out of nowhere and blocked my path mid gossip with a pal.
And then the other day I took out a small child with my handbag due to the fact I was looking sidewise instead of straight ahead and failed to notice him coming towards me. And anyone who's attempted to lift my handbag will know it's not exactly lightweight.
As I watched the poor kid rubbing his head and wondering whether my apology was genuine I toyed with the idea of trying to explain that I was deaf. But didn't know whether that would help him, or his slightly cross looking mum, understand just why I'd nearly knocked him out.
Honestly, I don't think it would have done.
You see, it's hard enough explaining deafness to someone without having to explain all the little things that go with it. Such as walking into things while lipreading.
One of my favourite things I say that confuses people is 'I can't hear you, it's too dark' and this is true. If it's too dark, I can't lipread, and therefore I can't hear but to someone not familiar with my needs it does sound very odd.
So next time I flik-flak over a wall, take out a small child or fall through the open door of the ladies loo backwards, and it's appropriate, I'm going to explain why.
And simply say: 'I'm sorry I just (insert calamity here) but I'm deaf and when lipreading means I cannot look where I am going.'
Well that's the plan, anyway. Whether I'll be able to from my winded place on the floor, remains to be seen.
Have a lovely day peeps
DG
x
Crashing into the ladies toilets, I landed on flat on my back and found myself staring at the ceiling.
And the reason for this unfortunately mishap?
I was lipreading the person who was behind me, so turned around to hear her and leant against the door of the toilets to open it, at the exact same time as someone was opening it from the other side.
Honestly, I think she was more surprised than I was. I mean it's not everyday you open a door to find someone propelling themselves backwards at you.
Luckily she stepped aside, as otherwise I would have most likely taken her with me into my heap on the tiled floor. But as I lay there for a moment, blinking at the bright lights and feeling slightly winded, I couldn't help but reflect on just how risky lipreading on the move is.
Take the time I was walking through a car park with a friend and flik-flakked over a low wall that I hadn't noticed because I'd been looking left at my friend instead of straight ahead.
Or the time I almost broke my nose on a lamp post that came out of nowhere and blocked my path mid gossip with a pal.
And then the other day I took out a small child with my handbag due to the fact I was looking sidewise instead of straight ahead and failed to notice him coming towards me. And anyone who's attempted to lift my handbag will know it's not exactly lightweight.
As I watched the poor kid rubbing his head and wondering whether my apology was genuine I toyed with the idea of trying to explain that I was deaf. But didn't know whether that would help him, or his slightly cross looking mum, understand just why I'd nearly knocked him out.
Honestly, I don't think it would have done.
You see, it's hard enough explaining deafness to someone without having to explain all the little things that go with it. Such as walking into things while lipreading.
One of my favourite things I say that confuses people is 'I can't hear you, it's too dark' and this is true. If it's too dark, I can't lipread, and therefore I can't hear but to someone not familiar with my needs it does sound very odd.
So next time I flik-flak over a wall, take out a small child or fall through the open door of the ladies loo backwards, and it's appropriate, I'm going to explain why.
And simply say: 'I'm sorry I just (insert calamity here) but I'm deaf and when lipreading means I cannot look where I am going.'
Well that's the plan, anyway. Whether I'll be able to from my winded place on the floor, remains to be seen.
Have a lovely day peeps
DG
x
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
The lipreading reflex
It’s raining!
Harumph!
But on a positive note, this morning, after a week of head scratching, I finally remembered that I had not lost all my winter jumpers, I had merely packed them away during the summer.
This meant, that when I remembered where, I discovered a whole load of fabulous clothes I hasn’t seen since May! It’s like I’ve just been shopping, but without the credit card hit!
Anyway, today I want to talk about my dancing. You see, I’ve been going to Zumba class for two months now and, while I’ve got the moves – sort of – I’m lacking finesse...
This is mainly because no matter what move I do, my eyes are always on the instructor.
So my body is going one way, but my head is always going another, and this makes me look very strange – kinda like a jiving plank of wood.
The problem is, staring at people in order to hear what they are saying is a reflex that I just can’t shake off. It’s as strong as the old knee and hammer one at the doctors. It is literally physically impossible for me not to look at the person I am trying to hear.
I haven’t actually told my Zumba instructor I can’t hear, mainly because I never got around to it, and now, two months on, it seems a bit random to suddenly let her know. But I do wonder if I freak her out by staring at her from start to finish instead of looking at my hands or the ceiling, which is the head movement most of the dances seem to require.
I’ve actually tried practising at home – such is my desire to actually be good at this – and, when there’s no one to try and hear, my head definitely goes in the right direction.
So I’ve just got to work on breaking the reflex in class now. Perhaps over time as I learn the steps more, it’ll get easier. And in the meantime, I’ll just get my hip shaking and grapevines good, so that when my head eventually decides to join in, I’ll have it all...
…or something!
Harumph!
But on a positive note, this morning, after a week of head scratching, I finally remembered that I had not lost all my winter jumpers, I had merely packed them away during the summer.
This meant, that when I remembered where, I discovered a whole load of fabulous clothes I hasn’t seen since May! It’s like I’ve just been shopping, but without the credit card hit!
Anyway, today I want to talk about my dancing. You see, I’ve been going to Zumba class for two months now and, while I’ve got the moves – sort of – I’m lacking finesse...
This is mainly because no matter what move I do, my eyes are always on the instructor.
So my body is going one way, but my head is always going another, and this makes me look very strange – kinda like a jiving plank of wood.
The problem is, staring at people in order to hear what they are saying is a reflex that I just can’t shake off. It’s as strong as the old knee and hammer one at the doctors. It is literally physically impossible for me not to look at the person I am trying to hear.
I haven’t actually told my Zumba instructor I can’t hear, mainly because I never got around to it, and now, two months on, it seems a bit random to suddenly let her know. But I do wonder if I freak her out by staring at her from start to finish instead of looking at my hands or the ceiling, which is the head movement most of the dances seem to require.
I’ve actually tried practising at home – such is my desire to actually be good at this – and, when there’s no one to try and hear, my head definitely goes in the right direction.
So I’ve just got to work on breaking the reflex in class now. Perhaps over time as I learn the steps more, it’ll get easier. And in the meantime, I’ll just get my hip shaking and grapevines good, so that when my head eventually decides to join in, I’ll have it all...
…or something!
Friday, 25 June 2010
Hearing in my car!
Woohoo it's Friday! Almost the weekend! Two whole days of fun!
Thankful Friday wise, I am thankful for the weather, the weather and the erm... weather!
I love the sunshine!
This weekend I am taking London Cousins 1 and 2 on a road trip to see The Rents. London Aunt is going on a girly weekend away so I offered to look after them.
I love London Cousins 1 and 2 and, at 10 and 8 years old, it's amazing watching how they're growing up and what interests they have and how much they seem to know about everything – way more than I did at that age.
I mean, there I was pondering over what music to play in my car when London Cousin 1 piped up, 'Can we have Capital radio on?' – apparently it plays her favourite music.
As a result, when I was out last night, I tuned my radio into Capital – which at volume 48 on my car stereo isn’t actually that bad, so it's all ready this evening to pick them up.
I am a bit nervous about the journey because I know I won't hear anything they say to me. I should be able to lipread London Cousin 2 in my rear-view mirror if I have to, but I have warned them both that I won't be able to chat to them on the journey up there.
I think I feel sadder about this than they do to be honest. Rather randomly, not hearing in cars is one of the main things that bugs me about my deafness – coming in a close second to not hearing guys talking in my ears in clubs. They always find someone who’s easier to talk to rather than get to grips with letting me lipread them – but that’s a whole other bugbear.
So anyway, after pondering about the not-hearing-in-the-car issue on the bus this morning, I suddenly remembered my portable T-loop system. OK so this doesn't work for me most of the time but what if I rig it up so that if London cousins 1 or 2 want to speak to me, they just grab the microphone part and talk directly down that, so I'll get their voices much louder than the usually are.
This has made me very excited and the T-loop is charging as I type this.
I'll let you know if it worked in Monday's blog.
Thankful Friday wise, I am thankful for the weather, the weather and the erm... weather!
I love the sunshine!
This weekend I am taking London Cousins 1 and 2 on a road trip to see The Rents. London Aunt is going on a girly weekend away so I offered to look after them.
I love London Cousins 1 and 2 and, at 10 and 8 years old, it's amazing watching how they're growing up and what interests they have and how much they seem to know about everything – way more than I did at that age.
I mean, there I was pondering over what music to play in my car when London Cousin 1 piped up, 'Can we have Capital radio on?' – apparently it plays her favourite music.
As a result, when I was out last night, I tuned my radio into Capital – which at volume 48 on my car stereo isn’t actually that bad, so it's all ready this evening to pick them up.
I am a bit nervous about the journey because I know I won't hear anything they say to me. I should be able to lipread London Cousin 2 in my rear-view mirror if I have to, but I have warned them both that I won't be able to chat to them on the journey up there.
I think I feel sadder about this than they do to be honest. Rather randomly, not hearing in cars is one of the main things that bugs me about my deafness – coming in a close second to not hearing guys talking in my ears in clubs. They always find someone who’s easier to talk to rather than get to grips with letting me lipread them – but that’s a whole other bugbear.
So anyway, after pondering about the not-hearing-in-the-car issue on the bus this morning, I suddenly remembered my portable T-loop system. OK so this doesn't work for me most of the time but what if I rig it up so that if London cousins 1 or 2 want to speak to me, they just grab the microphone part and talk directly down that, so I'll get their voices much louder than the usually are.
This has made me very excited and the T-loop is charging as I type this.
I'll let you know if it worked in Monday's blog.
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
I'm lipreading, not staring at you!
So last night was fun!
I went the pub with GBman and The Singing Swede and made an utter idiot of myself!
And I'd also like to add that I was drinking Diet Coke, as I haven't been able to drink alcohol since the Bank Holiday fiasco.
So anyway, it was quiz night and I was late. On arriving I discovered the quiz master not only had a beard, he also had an Irish accent – neither good for lipreading, but I wasn't in the mood for explaining my hearing loss, so I just concentrated really hard, which of course meant staring at him.
And this of course freaked him out until he eventually piped up ‘I'm that goodlookjng aren't I?!’ cue big blushes from me. So then GBman piped up that I was deaf and needed to lipread, and then someone else piped up ‘And you're not good looking.’
Erm... and that someone was me!
*blush
And I have absolutely no idea what on earth possessed me to say that out loud – especially as it wasn't true.
I mean he's not my type but that's no reason to tell the poor bloke he's not good looking. And I can't even blame it on the alcohol.
So a good thing to do at this point would have been to shut right up. But no, I gabbled on, digging a pit so deep I'm sure I saw the lights of Sydney Harbour Bridge at the bottom.
I thought I would never live it down – until GBman tried his hand at breakdancing...
And after that, I felt much, much better!
I went the pub with GBman and The Singing Swede and made an utter idiot of myself!
And I'd also like to add that I was drinking Diet Coke, as I haven't been able to drink alcohol since the Bank Holiday fiasco.
So anyway, it was quiz night and I was late. On arriving I discovered the quiz master not only had a beard, he also had an Irish accent – neither good for lipreading, but I wasn't in the mood for explaining my hearing loss, so I just concentrated really hard, which of course meant staring at him.
And this of course freaked him out until he eventually piped up ‘I'm that goodlookjng aren't I?!’ cue big blushes from me. So then GBman piped up that I was deaf and needed to lipread, and then someone else piped up ‘And you're not good looking.’
Erm... and that someone was me!
*blush
And I have absolutely no idea what on earth possessed me to say that out loud – especially as it wasn't true.
I mean he's not my type but that's no reason to tell the poor bloke he's not good looking. And I can't even blame it on the alcohol.
So a good thing to do at this point would have been to shut right up. But no, I gabbled on, digging a pit so deep I'm sure I saw the lights of Sydney Harbour Bridge at the bottom.
I thought I would never live it down – until GBman tried his hand at breakdancing...
And after that, I felt much, much better!
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Lipreading silent letters
You must excuse me, my cheeks are still glowing a warm shade of red from an embarrassing episode in Pret a Manger this morning.
There I was, buying my banana and sparkling water and after the 10th pardon, still with no clue what the man behind the till was saying to me.
*blush
It’s a noisy place, to be fair, but even my lipreading skills were no help, because in this instance, it turns out he was pronouncing a letter that’s usually silent – and this letter was the ‘p’ in receipt.
This ‘p’ and closure of his lips in the pattern of this word completely threw me. I had no clue what he was saying.
I looked to his colleague, who also seemed to pronounce the ‘p’, which was no help and eventually he gave up and said – do you want the paper thing?
Hurrah! Now I knew what was going on… but by this stage I was a gibbering, stammering, embarrassed ball of blondeness and he was pretty baffled, too.
‘I’m deaf,’ I reassured him – desperate for him not to think it was his English that was the problem – although it kind of was, but I don’t think he understood me.
So I grabbed my stuff and legged it – still red – to work.
It’s a long time since my lipreading skills let me down – I’m normally too on the ball, nosily reading people’s conversations in bars and restaurants, or from my bus in a traffic jam.
The other day I witnessed THE BEST fight between a couple – I think tourists – who were lost on Oxford Street. The guy had his back to me, so I was treated to a one-sided conversation as the girl ranted and raved about the fact that he didn’t know know where they were. It was getting so heated that I almost felt like getting off the bus and telling them where they were, just so she’d stop going mental at him.
Tomorrow, when I go into Pret, I am going to be on ‘p’ alert – or maybe I’ll just buy my banana from Somerfield like everyone else.
There I was, buying my banana and sparkling water and after the 10th pardon, still with no clue what the man behind the till was saying to me.
*blush
It’s a noisy place, to be fair, but even my lipreading skills were no help, because in this instance, it turns out he was pronouncing a letter that’s usually silent – and this letter was the ‘p’ in receipt.
This ‘p’ and closure of his lips in the pattern of this word completely threw me. I had no clue what he was saying.
I looked to his colleague, who also seemed to pronounce the ‘p’, which was no help and eventually he gave up and said – do you want the paper thing?
Hurrah! Now I knew what was going on… but by this stage I was a gibbering, stammering, embarrassed ball of blondeness and he was pretty baffled, too.
‘I’m deaf,’ I reassured him – desperate for him not to think it was his English that was the problem – although it kind of was, but I don’t think he understood me.
So I grabbed my stuff and legged it – still red – to work.
It’s a long time since my lipreading skills let me down – I’m normally too on the ball, nosily reading people’s conversations in bars and restaurants, or from my bus in a traffic jam.
The other day I witnessed THE BEST fight between a couple – I think tourists – who were lost on Oxford Street. The guy had his back to me, so I was treated to a one-sided conversation as the girl ranted and raved about the fact that he didn’t know know where they were. It was getting so heated that I almost felt like getting off the bus and telling them where they were, just so she’d stop going mental at him.
Tomorrow, when I go into Pret, I am going to be on ‘p’ alert – or maybe I’ll just buy my banana from Somerfield like everyone else.
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