This weekend has been amazing. I've had Miss K staying don't you know as it was her hen do.
I was half in charge of organising this, along with the Mountain Climber and luckily, it was a complete success.
Aside from that though, for me it was a little bit bittersweet, as I realised just how deaf the non hearing-aid wearing me was... and the fact that I actively decided not to be that person anymore still breaks a little bit of my heart.
Which is of course ridiculous, but then this is me we are talking about. So let's start at the beginning shall we...
On Saturday, we went to a spa for the day. There were six of us and we all went to have a treatment before enjoying the sauna, hot tub and pool.
Given the fact that I am insanely accident prone, I decided to take out my hearing aids from the start while still in the changing room, to make sure there was no way they'd end up floating in the jacuzzi or dying of stream inhalation.
Immediately, I lost all idea of what was going on. Who was talking to who. Where sounds were coming from.
'I don't remember it being this bad,' I found myself thinking.
We went in the jacuzzi. Over the sound of the jets, I couldn't hear anything. I didn't know a lot of the people there either so they didn't lipread easily.
'I don't remember this so much either,' I thought.
I went for my massage and they turned down the lights and I realised I couldn't follow anything.
'Was it always like this?' I wondered.
I mean sure, I remember the frustrations of being really deaf. Heck, this very blog is evidence of that. And even with my hearing aids, it's not like I can hear everything. It's not like everything's perfect.
But I yesterday I realised what was making me feel sad was that I missed the old feeling feeling not knowing what I was missing.
I always used to laugh at people who asked me what I could and couldn't hear, because honestly, if you can't hear something, you're not going to be able to tell someone about it as you won't know it exists.
Yesterday however, I was acutely aware of what I couldn't hear. You see, I forget that I used to not even bother to try and follow conversations and just go into my own world in group situations. I never realised that I could be included. But with my hearing aids, I am included. I follow group conversations more, I expect to know what's going on, so when I am without them and I don't, it's a shock.
Tonight, I walked into my bedroom, took off my make-up and took out my hearing aids. The sound of the water running in the bathroom vanished. The hum of the traffic outside vanished. The audible light in my world vanished. And rather than running around my room in a panic like a headless chicken - as I once did after taking my hearing aids out - I just felt sad.
I felt sad that the original Deafinitely Girly wasn't enough for me. That I'd spent 32 years of my life coming to terms with being that person and then suddenly changed her.
I don't like my world without my hearing aids now. A world I once proudly defended to all audiologists who tried to change that.
I accept that my world with hearing aids is better. Things happen that I know wouldn't have otherwise.
So why do I feel so sad?
I know I've got to make peace with my old world, and the old Deafinitely Girly, and accept that this is my world now. A world that's noisy by day and quiet by night. As one of my mates said recently, 'Some people would pay good money for a world like that!'
And she was right, they would.
I'll find my way. I'll work out how to let go of the past. And I'll just have to get less clumsy so that on the next spa day I come on, the hearing aids can come, too.
Happy Monday peeps (or Sunday if you're reading it as soon as it goes up)
DG
x
Sunday, 24 March 2013
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Deaf Girly and the vibrating alarm clock
Last night, my vibrating alarm clock went rogue.
*pauses
Gosh, that sentence sounds so much worse than it is.
With a spate of early starts recently, I'm relying on this little gadget more than ever to shake me from my, quite simply, comatose slumber in order to make sure I can fit the maximum amount of stuff into my day.
On Wednesday morning, it failed. Luckily my three back-up iPhone alarms did not, but these go off in sequence 10 minutes later then my vibrating alarm clock, meaning I was behind schedule.
Last night, after a gentle text reminder from an ace mate, I changed the batteries on my vibrating alarm clock to ensure there was no chance of it not going off, but just to be safe, I also set four iPhone alarms.
Excessive?
Perhaps but let's not underestimate my need for sleep right now.
So the alarm was bright and alert with its new triple A batteries in meaning I could go to sleep safe in the knowledge that I'd be shaken awake at...
3am?!
Hmm yes, my alarm clock was having a laugh but it went off, almost as if it was chuckling 'haha! Got you!' at me in the process.
Sitting up in bed, checking every clock in my room (my twitter followers will know that most clocks in my flat don't work) I struggled to work out what had happened.
I then lay down and went to sleep until...
5am!
when my little alarm clock woke me up. This time around, seemingly laughing its head off...
Angry and tired by this point, my stealth-like arm shot under the pillow and hit the off button before resetting the alarm for 6.03, which let's face it sounds so much better than 6 flat, and tried to go back to sleep.
I slept through 6.03. Indeed I slept through until 6.11 when my trusty iPhone bounced away on my bedside table. As I checked the news online, I waited for my alarm clock to shake.
Nothing.
Then finally, at 6.43, when I was showered and had hearing aids in, I heard a strange low purring sound. Following it, as best I could, I tracked it to my bed, to under my pillow, to find my alarm clock, going off...
Smugly...
Pah!
Tomorrow I have to be up super early.
I have an out-of-London meeting.
*beams
There's no maximum number of alarms you can have on an iPhone? Right?
*puts alarm clock in the bin
*pauses
Gosh, that sentence sounds so much worse than it is.
With a spate of early starts recently, I'm relying on this little gadget more than ever to shake me from my, quite simply, comatose slumber in order to make sure I can fit the maximum amount of stuff into my day.
On Wednesday morning, it failed. Luckily my three back-up iPhone alarms did not, but these go off in sequence 10 minutes later then my vibrating alarm clock, meaning I was behind schedule.
Last night, after a gentle text reminder from an ace mate, I changed the batteries on my vibrating alarm clock to ensure there was no chance of it not going off, but just to be safe, I also set four iPhone alarms.
Excessive?
Perhaps but let's not underestimate my need for sleep right now.
So the alarm was bright and alert with its new triple A batteries in meaning I could go to sleep safe in the knowledge that I'd be shaken awake at...
3am?!
Hmm yes, my alarm clock was having a laugh but it went off, almost as if it was chuckling 'haha! Got you!' at me in the process.
Sitting up in bed, checking every clock in my room (my twitter followers will know that most clocks in my flat don't work) I struggled to work out what had happened.
I then lay down and went to sleep until...
5am!
when my little alarm clock woke me up. This time around, seemingly laughing its head off...
Angry and tired by this point, my stealth-like arm shot under the pillow and hit the off button before resetting the alarm for 6.03, which let's face it sounds so much better than 6 flat, and tried to go back to sleep.
I slept through 6.03. Indeed I slept through until 6.11 when my trusty iPhone bounced away on my bedside table. As I checked the news online, I waited for my alarm clock to shake.
Nothing.
Then finally, at 6.43, when I was showered and had hearing aids in, I heard a strange low purring sound. Following it, as best I could, I tracked it to my bed, to under my pillow, to find my alarm clock, going off...
Smugly...
Pah!
Tomorrow I have to be up super early.
I have an out-of-London meeting.
*beams
There's no maximum number of alarms you can have on an iPhone? Right?
*puts alarm clock in the bin
Friday, 1 February 2013
Wanted! Some ears...
Today, on the first Thankful Friday of February (pinch, punch etc etc ) there's one thing I'm very thankful for. And that is that Pa is out of hospital and on the mend.
This time last Friday, when I met The Rents and Big Bro in Southampton before a wedding, he was anything but on the mend, suffering from a bad chest infection and in pain from falling backwards down the stairs two days before.
Pa and weddings do not go well together and usually involve hospital trips.
This time he missed the wedding reception - an amazing extravaganza of a meal in the most gorgeous hotel.
*sniff
But like I said, he's on the mend.
So what else am I thankful for?
Certainly not my latest car insurance quote - almost £700...
*gulp
People of London, is this normal for a 1ltr tiny 8 year old car that drives 2,000 miles a year maximum and lives on a leafy street in west London?
My fab Facebook friends who live elsewhere in the UK have all told me theirs are all half that, even though they drive much flashier cars and use them for things like commuting.
*sniff
So is it just the London postcode?
Or is it because a woman reversed into my car when I wasn't even in it and her insurance company paid up without even questioning it?
I wish I knew.
I wish I could call and find out,
But I can't, so I'm going to recruit some ears to find out for me... Providing the insurance company will talk to someone else on my behalf.
Nearly £700...
*tuts
Happy Friday everyone
DG
This time last Friday, when I met The Rents and Big Bro in Southampton before a wedding, he was anything but on the mend, suffering from a bad chest infection and in pain from falling backwards down the stairs two days before.
Pa and weddings do not go well together and usually involve hospital trips.
This time he missed the wedding reception - an amazing extravaganza of a meal in the most gorgeous hotel.
*sniff
But like I said, he's on the mend.
So what else am I thankful for?
Certainly not my latest car insurance quote - almost £700...
*gulp
People of London, is this normal for a 1ltr tiny 8 year old car that drives 2,000 miles a year maximum and lives on a leafy street in west London?
My fab Facebook friends who live elsewhere in the UK have all told me theirs are all half that, even though they drive much flashier cars and use them for things like commuting.
*sniff
So is it just the London postcode?
Or is it because a woman reversed into my car when I wasn't even in it and her insurance company paid up without even questioning it?
I wish I knew.
I wish I could call and find out,
But I can't, so I'm going to recruit some ears to find out for me... Providing the insurance company will talk to someone else on my behalf.
Nearly £700...
*tuts
Happy Friday everyone
DG
Thursday, 24 January 2013
Hearing in my dreams
Last night I had the worst dream...
It was possibly worse than when I dreamt I ran over and killed Kylie Minogue on my Raleigh Apple bicycle aged seven, which was probably brought about by the excitement of receiving the former's album in my stocking that year and finding the latter propped up against the Christmas tree on running downstairs that morning.
Anyway, this dream sadly was nothing like that. In fact recently I've been going to bed at 10.30pm and waking up at midnight, usually standing up, in a totally different room.
Two night's ago, i found myself in the kitchen. My dream had been about making toast. Thankfully I hadn't actually made toast.
But last night, I was lucky I didn't wake up in the middle of the street as I had a dream that a rogue policeman was in my house. In a scene worthy of a tense made-for-TV thriller (I know my imaginary limits here guys) I had let him into my flat before realising he was a dodgy cop. He was in the bathroom, I was behind the lounge door, wondering what to do. And then I made a dash for it - except it's quite hard to dash through my front door as it's got more locks than Fort Knox. And thank goodness it has, as otherwise, like I said, I might have found myself in my Primarni onesie making a complete spectacle of myself in west London.
Instead I woke up running across my bedroom. Running!! In a onesie. In my sleep. I can barely run when I am awake. Does this mean I actually run better in my sleep?
This sleep running away from the dodgy policeman was all going very well. In my dream I'd pegged it down the street, which didn't look like my street, to where a man was building walls with the plan to ask him for help. Except I didn't manage to get to him because I woke up, mid-stride, heart racing, after standing on an upturned plug.
Cue much hopping around the room, while trying to get a grip on the reality of the situation - me, now awake, in a onesie, foot hurting, but safe in my flat with no rogue coppers about.
'It must be time to get up,' I thought.
It was midnight.
'I must got back to sleep,' I told myself.
But my brain - working full speed on adrenalin - and foot - rather cross about the upturned plug - had other ideas.
As I lay awake, thinking over the dream, I remembered that in it, I hadn't been deaf.
This sometimes happens you see.
In my dream, I'd spied on the police officer through the crack in the lounge door. I'd heard him on his radio, listened to his chat, realised he was dodgy as hell and had a shouted conversation very successfully with him between rooms with absolutely no lipreading.
Brilliant huh?
But as I lay there in the muted silence if my bedroom, I couldn't help but feel happy for the peace and quiet. No hum of traffic, no shouting from the idiots at the pub down the road, nothing. No real hearing as such. Hearing aids safely on the bedside table.
Just me, and silence, and my bloody throbbing foot.
So tonight, dear brain, if you're gonna dream, could it at least be a good, non-scary one please? Maybe set on a beach in the Caribbean?
That would be aces.
Have a good day peeps
DG
X
It was possibly worse than when I dreamt I ran over and killed Kylie Minogue on my Raleigh Apple bicycle aged seven, which was probably brought about by the excitement of receiving the former's album in my stocking that year and finding the latter propped up against the Christmas tree on running downstairs that morning.
Anyway, this dream sadly was nothing like that. In fact recently I've been going to bed at 10.30pm and waking up at midnight, usually standing up, in a totally different room.
Two night's ago, i found myself in the kitchen. My dream had been about making toast. Thankfully I hadn't actually made toast.
But last night, I was lucky I didn't wake up in the middle of the street as I had a dream that a rogue policeman was in my house. In a scene worthy of a tense made-for-TV thriller (I know my imaginary limits here guys) I had let him into my flat before realising he was a dodgy cop. He was in the bathroom, I was behind the lounge door, wondering what to do. And then I made a dash for it - except it's quite hard to dash through my front door as it's got more locks than Fort Knox. And thank goodness it has, as otherwise, like I said, I might have found myself in my Primarni onesie making a complete spectacle of myself in west London.
Instead I woke up running across my bedroom. Running!! In a onesie. In my sleep. I can barely run when I am awake. Does this mean I actually run better in my sleep?
This sleep running away from the dodgy policeman was all going very well. In my dream I'd pegged it down the street, which didn't look like my street, to where a man was building walls with the plan to ask him for help. Except I didn't manage to get to him because I woke up, mid-stride, heart racing, after standing on an upturned plug.
Cue much hopping around the room, while trying to get a grip on the reality of the situation - me, now awake, in a onesie, foot hurting, but safe in my flat with no rogue coppers about.
'It must be time to get up,' I thought.
It was midnight.
'I must got back to sleep,' I told myself.
But my brain - working full speed on adrenalin - and foot - rather cross about the upturned plug - had other ideas.
As I lay awake, thinking over the dream, I remembered that in it, I hadn't been deaf.
This sometimes happens you see.
In my dream, I'd spied on the police officer through the crack in the lounge door. I'd heard him on his radio, listened to his chat, realised he was dodgy as hell and had a shouted conversation very successfully with him between rooms with absolutely no lipreading.
Brilliant huh?
But as I lay there in the muted silence if my bedroom, I couldn't help but feel happy for the peace and quiet. No hum of traffic, no shouting from the idiots at the pub down the road, nothing. No real hearing as such. Hearing aids safely on the bedside table.
Just me, and silence, and my bloody throbbing foot.
So tonight, dear brain, if you're gonna dream, could it at least be a good, non-scary one please? Maybe set on a beach in the Caribbean?
That would be aces.
Have a good day peeps
DG
X
Tuesday, 22 January 2013
When people are my ears...
Yesterday I locked myself out of my bank card.
Stupid? Yes! Very.
The company is it with have a live Internet chat service so I logged in and got a chat person instantly.
'How can I help you?' he tapped.
I explained the situation and that I was deaf so couldn't call to sort it out.
''Ive made a note of your deafness on your account,' he said, 'Brilliant!' I replied before asking him about my locked bank card.
And guess what he answered?
Yup, he told me to call a number to speak to someone to have my bank card unlocked.
I sat there, rereading our live chat on my screen, wondering how, when it was written twice for him, and he'd just made a note of it on my account, he thought me calling up was an option.
I pointed this out, as politely as my angry hands would allow and he informed me that anyone could call for me. Anyone huh? That didn't sound right.
So Art Man picked up the phone and rang. He explained I was deaf, he explained I'd stupidly locked my bank card and he explained that I was sat right beside him. The person refused to help.
Not prepared to give up, he requested a manager. He explained it all over again, he reiterated the fact that he could put me on speaker phone and relay the conversation by mouthing it to me. He was met by reluctance. So he went through it all again.
Eventually the manager agreed to put the phone on speaker and she asked me my security questions with Art Man relaying them to me. She asked me if I gave him permission to speak on my behalf and I confirmed, acknowledging that the flip side of this is that in theory, card fraud should be quite difficult.
After about 10 minutes the card was finally unlocked. She'd also given us an address where I can send a letter to authorise a person to speak on my behalf. It's that simple. You just send a letter.
That doesn't seem very fraud proof...
It was a hassle, but it was 10 times less of a hassle than it usually is because I had one of the most proactive, won't take no for an answer people being my ears.
Hurrah!
But it also reminded me what a complete inconvenience all this is. So much so that I know I've been on the wrong British Gas tariff for three years because I can't face the nightmare minefield of calling them to rectify this. I've emailed them to explain this and they always reply with 'Call this number and we will help you right away.'
Now I know I could use a text relay service (is that what its called? I really should know) but I don't know how to, and I'm cross that this is the only option. And whenever I look into it, my brain shuts down in the same way it use to when I tried to learn long division at school or work out force problems in physics.
I need to see if this is a viable solution to my problem, but I'd also like to see another solution - an email solution.
I know there are fraud issues and all that jazz, but how do they know its really Deafinitely Girly on the phone either?
Maybe they could have a Skype line so I could lipread the person I was talking to, or even better, a simple online way of getting your tariff changed or card unlocked.
All I know is right now is I'm in my 30s and I can't do everything on my own. I can use a hammer drill, I can buy a flat, I can decorate it and build flatpack furniture. I can drive a car and, well the list is endless, but I can't get the right British Gas tariff. I can't unlock my bank card. I can't make a GP appointment unless I employ someone to be my ears and I can't even call a taxi.
I have no idea what to say to that...
*goes off to google text relay or whatever it is*
Stupid? Yes! Very.
The company is it with have a live Internet chat service so I logged in and got a chat person instantly.
'How can I help you?' he tapped.
I explained the situation and that I was deaf so couldn't call to sort it out.
''Ive made a note of your deafness on your account,' he said, 'Brilliant!' I replied before asking him about my locked bank card.
And guess what he answered?
Yup, he told me to call a number to speak to someone to have my bank card unlocked.
I sat there, rereading our live chat on my screen, wondering how, when it was written twice for him, and he'd just made a note of it on my account, he thought me calling up was an option.
I pointed this out, as politely as my angry hands would allow and he informed me that anyone could call for me. Anyone huh? That didn't sound right.
So Art Man picked up the phone and rang. He explained I was deaf, he explained I'd stupidly locked my bank card and he explained that I was sat right beside him. The person refused to help.
Not prepared to give up, he requested a manager. He explained it all over again, he reiterated the fact that he could put me on speaker phone and relay the conversation by mouthing it to me. He was met by reluctance. So he went through it all again.
Eventually the manager agreed to put the phone on speaker and she asked me my security questions with Art Man relaying them to me. She asked me if I gave him permission to speak on my behalf and I confirmed, acknowledging that the flip side of this is that in theory, card fraud should be quite difficult.
After about 10 minutes the card was finally unlocked. She'd also given us an address where I can send a letter to authorise a person to speak on my behalf. It's that simple. You just send a letter.
That doesn't seem very fraud proof...
It was a hassle, but it was 10 times less of a hassle than it usually is because I had one of the most proactive, won't take no for an answer people being my ears.
Hurrah!
But it also reminded me what a complete inconvenience all this is. So much so that I know I've been on the wrong British Gas tariff for three years because I can't face the nightmare minefield of calling them to rectify this. I've emailed them to explain this and they always reply with 'Call this number and we will help you right away.'
Now I know I could use a text relay service (is that what its called? I really should know) but I don't know how to, and I'm cross that this is the only option. And whenever I look into it, my brain shuts down in the same way it use to when I tried to learn long division at school or work out force problems in physics.
I need to see if this is a viable solution to my problem, but I'd also like to see another solution - an email solution.
I know there are fraud issues and all that jazz, but how do they know its really Deafinitely Girly on the phone either?
Maybe they could have a Skype line so I could lipread the person I was talking to, or even better, a simple online way of getting your tariff changed or card unlocked.
All I know is right now is I'm in my 30s and I can't do everything on my own. I can use a hammer drill, I can buy a flat, I can decorate it and build flatpack furniture. I can drive a car and, well the list is endless, but I can't get the right British Gas tariff. I can't unlock my bank card. I can't make a GP appointment unless I employ someone to be my ears and I can't even call a taxi.
I have no idea what to say to that...
*goes off to google text relay or whatever it is*
Friday, 18 January 2013
NHS deaf update
Sometimes there really is no pleasing me, and this morning I couldn't help but feel disappointed that there wasn't even so much of a frost greeting me when I opened my blinds and peered out.
I have a feeling I may regret saying this when a snowy chaos descends upon central London later, but like I said there is just no pleasing me!!
Actually that's not entirely true, because today is a very Thankful Friday. Indeed, yesterday I got word from the Central London Community Healthcare bods that there are now vibrating pagers in Parsons Green and Edgware Walk-in Centres so that deaf and hard of hearing peeps know when it's their turn to see the doctor or nurse.
All that blogging worked!
*beams
OK, so there's still lots that could be improved upon, but isn't this an indication that things are changing? That you don't necessarily have to go the old way of doing things anymore? That people are willing to listen and change stuff... If you ask them nicely of course.
Stroppiness and endless criticism isn't going to make them want to change stuff is it?
So yesterday when I heard the news,
I immediately wanted to go and try the pager system out, except I'm not sick. That was last week and even then if if had turned up at the walk-in centre with my untreatable flu virus cold thing, I doubt they would have greeted me with open arms.
So this is a call to action for west London and Edgware bods - can you please, if you need to see a doctor urgently, consider my two vibrating pager locations and let me know how you got on? I don't want to wish anyone sick, but I'm like a child on Christmas morning about this development!
*beams
In other news I am also thankful for Orla Kiely who has created a wool blanket more efficient than any other blanket I've ever encountered.
Last night, in my freezing flat (up yours British Gas) I threw this blanket over my bed and hopped in and I was kept toasty warm all night with the help of a hot water bottle and fleecy onesie. This gigantic blanket is a magic and welcome addition.
I was tempted to try and fashion it into some sort of scarf this morning but considering its the size of a double duvet, I decided that might by pushing it even for me.
So instead I'm on the bus hugging my hot water bottle (concealed in a cotton bag for all the judgey people) and beaming at the vibrating pager development.
Happy Friday peeps
DG x
I have a feeling I may regret saying this when a snowy chaos descends upon central London later, but like I said there is just no pleasing me!!
Actually that's not entirely true, because today is a very Thankful Friday. Indeed, yesterday I got word from the Central London Community Healthcare bods that there are now vibrating pagers in Parsons Green and Edgware Walk-in Centres so that deaf and hard of hearing peeps know when it's their turn to see the doctor or nurse.
All that blogging worked!
*beams
OK, so there's still lots that could be improved upon, but isn't this an indication that things are changing? That you don't necessarily have to go the old way of doing things anymore? That people are willing to listen and change stuff... If you ask them nicely of course.
Stroppiness and endless criticism isn't going to make them want to change stuff is it?
So yesterday when I heard the news,
I immediately wanted to go and try the pager system out, except I'm not sick. That was last week and even then if if had turned up at the walk-in centre with my untreatable flu virus cold thing, I doubt they would have greeted me with open arms.
So this is a call to action for west London and Edgware bods - can you please, if you need to see a doctor urgently, consider my two vibrating pager locations and let me know how you got on? I don't want to wish anyone sick, but I'm like a child on Christmas morning about this development!
*beams
In other news I am also thankful for Orla Kiely who has created a wool blanket more efficient than any other blanket I've ever encountered.
Last night, in my freezing flat (up yours British Gas) I threw this blanket over my bed and hopped in and I was kept toasty warm all night with the help of a hot water bottle and fleecy onesie. This gigantic blanket is a magic and welcome addition.
I was tempted to try and fashion it into some sort of scarf this morning but considering its the size of a double duvet, I decided that might by pushing it even for me.
So instead I'm on the bus hugging my hot water bottle (concealed in a cotton bag for all the judgey people) and beaming at the vibrating pager development.
Happy Friday peeps
DG x
Thursday, 17 January 2013
Missing my old deaf world
Another day, another blog about how cold it is. Another journey to work wearing my blanket in lieu of a scarf.
I'm actually typing this while trying to breathe breath rings on the bus it is that cold. Thankfully I am wearing my iPhone friendly gloves, which I got for Christmas (thanks Ma), and these mean I can type without my fingers turning to icicles and falling off.
Anyway, this week I've been struggling to hear. I don't know if its my cold gumming up my right ear or if the hearing aid is packing up but something's not right, and I don't like it.
Taking time off work to get them looked at isn't really something I want to do at the moment either so it leaves me with two options - I can either wait until this cold has completely gone and reassess, or I can take them out and go back to the world I used to function very well in.
The problem however with the second option is that I don't like that world anymore. And I can't for the life of me work out how I coped in it.
*bursts into tears*
This is exactly what I didn't want to happen.
I love my hearing aids and can't imagine not having them now, but when they're not working its like I am trapped between a rock and a hard place.
I'm trying to pull myself together about missing my old world. I mean if you translate it into a wearing glasses situation it's a no brainer. I can't see anything without my glasses but that doesn't ever mean I'd do without them so that if they broke I wouldn't feel so devastated to go back to my blurry world until they were fixed.
But I think it's just because I fought so hard to like my world without hearing aids. I spent four years blogging about it for heaven's sake and I spent a great deal more believing there simply wasn't a hearing aid that could enhance my life.
There is no easy solution to this. I know I will gradually come to forget my old world even being a viable solution to getting by and I will find the time to take off to get my hearing aids checked if things don't improve.
I will also just have to tell everyone I encounter that I'm having an extra deaf week and could they please speak up a bit, while I crank the volume of my aids up and strap my TLoop system to my head to get it as close to my aids as possible. Yes I will do all of those.
And then I will sleep. Lipreading is exhausting. Before my hearing aids, it was basically all I did. Since my hearing aids, I've had some respite from it.
Yesterday after three hours solid of meetings,I came back into the office where Man With Sweet Tooth asked me a question.
I looked at him blankly and asked him to repeat. He did. I still looked blank.
Three goes later and said in several different ways, I eventually got what he said. Mental huh? My eyes had literally given up translating for me. They'd gone on strike. And who can blame them.
As I closed them last night, I repeated something that's becoming something of a mantra for me right now, 'it's ok you're deaf, you'll get better at this.'
And it is and I will.
But for now I'm going to rest my eyes on the bus. With my ears slacking off, those cat-from-Shrek peepers are on duty today - ready and waiting to lipread my world.
Happy Thursday peeps
DG
X
I'm actually typing this while trying to breathe breath rings on the bus it is that cold. Thankfully I am wearing my iPhone friendly gloves, which I got for Christmas (thanks Ma), and these mean I can type without my fingers turning to icicles and falling off.
Anyway, this week I've been struggling to hear. I don't know if its my cold gumming up my right ear or if the hearing aid is packing up but something's not right, and I don't like it.
Taking time off work to get them looked at isn't really something I want to do at the moment either so it leaves me with two options - I can either wait until this cold has completely gone and reassess, or I can take them out and go back to the world I used to function very well in.
The problem however with the second option is that I don't like that world anymore. And I can't for the life of me work out how I coped in it.
*bursts into tears*
This is exactly what I didn't want to happen.
I love my hearing aids and can't imagine not having them now, but when they're not working its like I am trapped between a rock and a hard place.
I'm trying to pull myself together about missing my old world. I mean if you translate it into a wearing glasses situation it's a no brainer. I can't see anything without my glasses but that doesn't ever mean I'd do without them so that if they broke I wouldn't feel so devastated to go back to my blurry world until they were fixed.
But I think it's just because I fought so hard to like my world without hearing aids. I spent four years blogging about it for heaven's sake and I spent a great deal more believing there simply wasn't a hearing aid that could enhance my life.
There is no easy solution to this. I know I will gradually come to forget my old world even being a viable solution to getting by and I will find the time to take off to get my hearing aids checked if things don't improve.
I will also just have to tell everyone I encounter that I'm having an extra deaf week and could they please speak up a bit, while I crank the volume of my aids up and strap my TLoop system to my head to get it as close to my aids as possible. Yes I will do all of those.
And then I will sleep. Lipreading is exhausting. Before my hearing aids, it was basically all I did. Since my hearing aids, I've had some respite from it.
Yesterday after three hours solid of meetings,I came back into the office where Man With Sweet Tooth asked me a question.
I looked at him blankly and asked him to repeat. He did. I still looked blank.
Three goes later and said in several different ways, I eventually got what he said. Mental huh? My eyes had literally given up translating for me. They'd gone on strike. And who can blame them.
As I closed them last night, I repeated something that's becoming something of a mantra for me right now, 'it's ok you're deaf, you'll get better at this.'
And it is and I will.
But for now I'm going to rest my eyes on the bus. With my ears slacking off, those cat-from-Shrek peepers are on duty today - ready and waiting to lipread my world.
Happy Thursday peeps
DG
X
Monday, 14 January 2013
Deaf Girly in winter
Ok, so this morning I woke up to the beautiful sight of snow scattered over west London.
From the comfort of my onesie while stood against my radiator, it looked beautiful.
I turned on the TV. Snow it seems is the apocalypse. The news was reporting that world was going to stop working bit by bit, starting with public transport.
Winter has arrived, I thought to myself as I threw on my thermal tights and contemplated the contents of my wardrobe.
Bugger.
However, it's not really winter that I have a problem with. I like snow, and air so chilly it freezes your nose hair off. I just dislike being cold.
I dislike being the kind of cold where your joints hurt, fingers go red, and all you want to do is curl up sleep on the very freezing pavement you can't will your frozen feet to move down.
I hate it.
So this winter I have a plan. I'm going not to get cold.
This plan starts at my feet - sheepskin lined boots, goes up my legs - thermal tights, into my outfit - 8 layers, and then finishes with my coat - long and wool, followed by a blanket, that I am wearing as a scarf.
'A blanket as a scarf?! Who does that?' you might ask.
And the answer is me.
And the next answer is 'yes, it bloody does work and I love it.'
This morning, I wrapped my cashmere wool blanket around my neck before leaving the house. Topped with a fleece-lined hat and some elbow-length gloves.
I have no idea what I looked like because I couldn't see out from the swathes of cashmere and wool.
I walked to the bus stop.
I was warm.
My toes were warm.
My knees were warm.
My body was warm and most importantly my head and neck were warm.
It was amazing.
People stood shivering at the bus stop.
I was warm.
And now I'm safely ensconced on the top deck and...
Crap.
I'm melting.
I'm like the John Lewis snowman now Christmas is over.
I'm wearing a cashmere/wool blanket on public transport for goodness sake. Public transport that is so packed I have no room to lift my arm to even think about removing one of my gazillion layers.
So it's back to the drawing board.
But in the meantime, from my seat on the bus where I am radiating enough heat to warm a small cottage in the Yorkshire moors, I wish you a very happy Monday peeps!
DG x
From the comfort of my onesie while stood against my radiator, it looked beautiful.
I turned on the TV. Snow it seems is the apocalypse. The news was reporting that world was going to stop working bit by bit, starting with public transport.
Winter has arrived, I thought to myself as I threw on my thermal tights and contemplated the contents of my wardrobe.
Bugger.
However, it's not really winter that I have a problem with. I like snow, and air so chilly it freezes your nose hair off. I just dislike being cold.
I dislike being the kind of cold where your joints hurt, fingers go red, and all you want to do is curl up sleep on the very freezing pavement you can't will your frozen feet to move down.
I hate it.
So this winter I have a plan. I'm going not to get cold.
This plan starts at my feet - sheepskin lined boots, goes up my legs - thermal tights, into my outfit - 8 layers, and then finishes with my coat - long and wool, followed by a blanket, that I am wearing as a scarf.
'A blanket as a scarf?! Who does that?' you might ask.
And the answer is me.
And the next answer is 'yes, it bloody does work and I love it.'
This morning, I wrapped my cashmere wool blanket around my neck before leaving the house. Topped with a fleece-lined hat and some elbow-length gloves.
I have no idea what I looked like because I couldn't see out from the swathes of cashmere and wool.
I walked to the bus stop.
I was warm.
My toes were warm.
My knees were warm.
My body was warm and most importantly my head and neck were warm.
It was amazing.
People stood shivering at the bus stop.
I was warm.
And now I'm safely ensconced on the top deck and...
Crap.
I'm melting.
I'm like the John Lewis snowman now Christmas is over.
I'm wearing a cashmere/wool blanket on public transport for goodness sake. Public transport that is so packed I have no room to lift my arm to even think about removing one of my gazillion layers.
So it's back to the drawing board.
But in the meantime, from my seat on the bus where I am radiating enough heat to warm a small cottage in the Yorkshire moors, I wish you a very happy Monday peeps!
DG x
Friday, 11 January 2013
A very thankful (deaf) Friday
Hurrah! It's Friday and I've made it through the first week of my new job, albeit with a lot of Lemsip on the side.
And for that I am very thankful.
I am also thankful for good advice.
This week has thrown up all the usual issues that a new job throws up, but for me, it's also thrown up some deafness-related ones.
You see, the longer I am in a job, the less I am reminded about my deafness – the flipside of this being, in a new job, I am constantly reminded about my deafness.
As I get to know the role and the company, I gradually put in place coping mechanisms and develop ways of doing things that make my life easier and also help me to follow what the heck is going on.
A new job changes a LOT of that.
This week, I had a bit of a wobble. A deafness confidence crisis that maybe I wasn't going to be great at my new job if I couldn't hear. It was horrid. It involved tears, on the Victoria line platform, in rush hour.
And then Art Man brought me back to reality.
He reminded me that he once asked me if I wished I wasn't deaf. And, as I remembered the moment he asked me that and I also remembered how quickly I gave him my answer.
I didn't even think. I just said 'No'.
It's true. I don't mind not hearing. OK, so it can be challenging but it has also shaped who I am, and sometimes I think for the better.
Then he reminded me that I would do a good job, I would be fine, that being deaf didn't change anything and it would be OK.
And just like that it was.
OK, not completely, but what his advice has done is given me the confidence to know that I've done this before. I've had other new jobs. I've worked out what I need, explained what I need, and got what I need to be good at my job.
And I've also discovered along the way that people like it if you tell them. They usually appreciate the honesty. After all, it's not fair to expect people to know automatically what you need to make life easier. A lot of the time, even I have to discover exactly what that is along the way.
And that's what this is.
Not a scary, oh-my-crappola, I'm deaf blubfest.
It's a brilliant, exciting challenge with new opportunities and wonderful experience in the offing.
And I'm ready.
After I've had some sleep this weekend. And perhaps another mug of Lemsip.
Happy weekend peeps.
DG
x
Tuesday, 8 January 2013
Deaf Girly's broken hearing aid?
On Saturday I woke up to discover a herd of tap dancing elephants had moved into my skull. And I hold my guilty hands up and admit this was a hangover.
I punished myself by not changing a single one of my Saturday plans. I climbed with Art Man and as the day wore on, I wondered whether I'd crossed the age threshold that brings about 2-day hangovers as the tap dancing elephants remained. As did a rather persistent cough.
On Sunday, I woke up ill.
The kind of ill where you wake up at 5am needing water and painkillers but you cannot move and another two hours pass with you laying there face down willing everything to stop spinning.
This was worse than a hangover.
So Sunday's plans were cancelled.
I staggered from bed to kitchen to make
Lemsip and refill my hot water bottle. I drank pints of ice-filled squash to bring my temperature down and I prayed I'd feel better on Monday as guess what? I have a new job people!
I started it yesterday. Dosed up on Day Nurse and Lemsip alternatively. I wheezed and sniffed my way through meetings while praying I didn't infect my new team, but really not seeing an alternative. I mean who calls in sick on their first day.
Anyway, yesterday morning, through the fug of my sinus congestion, I put in my hearing aids in readiness for the day ahead and the right one appeared to be broken. I couldn't hear through it. It wasn't enhancing anything. I couldn't even hear the start up beeps.
It was most odd.
I was gutted.
This morning however, the congestion had moved to my chest. I woke up gurgling; purring like a cat when I breathed in. Indeed, I spent from 5am until 6am feeling like I was drowning when I breathed in.
But when I put in my hearing aids, I could faintly hear the start up beep of my right one. Could my congestion have stuffed my hearing so much I thought my aid had broken?!
Apparently so.
This might seem like a dumb question but is that likely?
So today in preparation for my second day, I have my T-loop fully charged for meetings, I have my left hearing aid's volume cranked up to full, and I have Lemsip at the ready.
If I could just stop my lungs from sounding like I had a purring cat stuffed up my jumper I'd be sorted!!
Happy Tuesday peeps
DG x
I punished myself by not changing a single one of my Saturday plans. I climbed with Art Man and as the day wore on, I wondered whether I'd crossed the age threshold that brings about 2-day hangovers as the tap dancing elephants remained. As did a rather persistent cough.
On Sunday, I woke up ill.
The kind of ill where you wake up at 5am needing water and painkillers but you cannot move and another two hours pass with you laying there face down willing everything to stop spinning.
This was worse than a hangover.
So Sunday's plans were cancelled.
I staggered from bed to kitchen to make
Lemsip and refill my hot water bottle. I drank pints of ice-filled squash to bring my temperature down and I prayed I'd feel better on Monday as guess what? I have a new job people!
I started it yesterday. Dosed up on Day Nurse and Lemsip alternatively. I wheezed and sniffed my way through meetings while praying I didn't infect my new team, but really not seeing an alternative. I mean who calls in sick on their first day.
Anyway, yesterday morning, through the fug of my sinus congestion, I put in my hearing aids in readiness for the day ahead and the right one appeared to be broken. I couldn't hear through it. It wasn't enhancing anything. I couldn't even hear the start up beeps.
It was most odd.
I was gutted.
This morning however, the congestion had moved to my chest. I woke up gurgling; purring like a cat when I breathed in. Indeed, I spent from 5am until 6am feeling like I was drowning when I breathed in.
But when I put in my hearing aids, I could faintly hear the start up beep of my right one. Could my congestion have stuffed my hearing so much I thought my aid had broken?!
Apparently so.
This might seem like a dumb question but is that likely?
So today in preparation for my second day, I have my T-loop fully charged for meetings, I have my left hearing aid's volume cranked up to full, and I have Lemsip at the ready.
If I could just stop my lungs from sounding like I had a purring cat stuffed up my jumper I'd be sorted!!
Happy Tuesday peeps
DG x
Friday, 4 January 2013
First Thankful Friday of 2013
Today is Thankful Friday and it turns out in 2013 I already have quite a lot to be thankful for.
Problem is I can't really write about it on here. But I can tell you it's good, exciting and a little bit scary all rolled into one.
There's gonna be some change though, but what has surprised me is that I don't mind that. Change seems to happen for a reason. Change is often good.
I wasn't always like this. As a kid, I hated change, right down to the new term or someone else other than Ma giving me a lift to school in the morning. The unknown used to terrify me. I'd worry about things that hadn't, might'nt and, in all honesty, wouldn't happen.
London Aunt always used to say that the worse things got the less I panicked, which was definitely true.
One time when I was with her, we were driving to the Alps for Christmas and I started to panic about the snow on the motorway. I was 10.
The snow fell heavier and heavier and at every gantry we expected to see a sign to say the mountain route was closed. One by one each gantry posted up a mountain route closure but not ours so we pressed on.
As we drove higher up the mountain, becoming stuck in snow, having to repair out snowchain with Pa's shoelace, I began to stop panicking and, as we slept overnight in our freezing car and it gradually became covered in freezing snow, I ceased to panic at all. Indeed if you'd have told me 6 hours earlier I'd be spending the night in my Pa's ancient Volvo stuck on the mountainside, I'd have got out the car and refused to go any further.
Oddly, I use that experience to remind myself that there's no point in panicking about future events and that should an occasion arise that needs to be panicked about, I will probably panic considerably less than if I'd thought about it before hand.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that 2013 might be a bit unknown, a bit scary but I reckon it will be what I make it. I will face the fear head on, ask questions about the unknown and remember that being me is enough.
So look out 2013, I'm coming at you
DGx
Problem is I can't really write about it on here. But I can tell you it's good, exciting and a little bit scary all rolled into one.
There's gonna be some change though, but what has surprised me is that I don't mind that. Change seems to happen for a reason. Change is often good.
I wasn't always like this. As a kid, I hated change, right down to the new term or someone else other than Ma giving me a lift to school in the morning. The unknown used to terrify me. I'd worry about things that hadn't, might'nt and, in all honesty, wouldn't happen.
London Aunt always used to say that the worse things got the less I panicked, which was definitely true.
One time when I was with her, we were driving to the Alps for Christmas and I started to panic about the snow on the motorway. I was 10.
The snow fell heavier and heavier and at every gantry we expected to see a sign to say the mountain route was closed. One by one each gantry posted up a mountain route closure but not ours so we pressed on.
As we drove higher up the mountain, becoming stuck in snow, having to repair out snowchain with Pa's shoelace, I began to stop panicking and, as we slept overnight in our freezing car and it gradually became covered in freezing snow, I ceased to panic at all. Indeed if you'd have told me 6 hours earlier I'd be spending the night in my Pa's ancient Volvo stuck on the mountainside, I'd have got out the car and refused to go any further.
Oddly, I use that experience to remind myself that there's no point in panicking about future events and that should an occasion arise that needs to be panicked about, I will probably panic considerably less than if I'd thought about it before hand.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that 2013 might be a bit unknown, a bit scary but I reckon it will be what I make it. I will face the fear head on, ask questions about the unknown and remember that being me is enough.
So look out 2013, I'm coming at you
DGx
Tuesday, 1 January 2013
Happy New Year from Deaf Girly
Well, it is now 2013, which is great news really as 13 is my lucky number, so I'm expecting amazing things from this year.
My New Year's Eve was spent in the Wild West Erm... Country with Jenny M. I've known her for more than 20 years now and, as we've never spent a New Year's Eve together before, this year we decided to.
After an amazing Thai meal, we finally ended up, post midnight, in a cellar club dancing to bad music surrounded by terribly drunk men and creatively dressed women. There was enough synthetic material in the place that one spark and the whole club would have burst into flames.
Anyway, as I said, Jenny M and I have been mates for more than 20 years now and she knows me very well, which is why my Christmas present from her was bloody brilliant.
It's a desk calendar that has a new interesting word every day.
You see, Jenny M remembered me lamenting about my small vocabulary on various occasions so decided to help me out.
I have quite a few theories about why my vocabulary knowledge is so pitifully small and the main one is that I lost the bulk of my hearing in my teenage years, when your grown-up big vocabulary knowledge flourishes. That said, I could have added to it by reading lots and lots of books, but I was happier not doing that, and in addition to this, I actually became quite phobic of saying words I wasn't familiar with in case they came out wrong, so instead I stuck to the fail-safe vocab of my childhood. Indeed I lost count of the number of Alevel English essays I got back with the comment 'Use bigger, more varied and mature vocabulary please' accompanied by a nice shiny D grade.
In my 20s when I moved to London I decided I should really work on my word knowledge and started trying to learn and use big words. I read my thesaurus regularly, and I combed the archives of my mind for word replacements, with varying degrees of success.
I spent ages using the word peruse in the place of browse, only to discover it actually only applied to reading through something. I got profound and profuse muddled up and, as many of you will know I mispronounced Versailles, while I was actually in the bloomin' place. It took two weeks of solid practice to get that one right and even then I sound a bit Cockney when I say it so as a result tend to refer to it as that palace outside Paris.
So yesterday I opened my word of the day calendar with glee and to my absolute amazement in the opening section was an Abbreviated Pronunciation Key, telling me how I could work out the way to say a word. Amazing huh?
And my first word of the year was Retrodict, which means to utilise present information or ideas to explain (as a past event). Useful sentences with this in please peeps?
Today's word of the day is Legerdemain. This means sleight of hand or a display of skill. So does this mean I could say Deafinitely Girly used culinary legerdemain to conceal the fact she forgot to add enough eggs to her wedding cake, avoiding having to bake 120 cupcakes all over again?
And to all the brides I've baked for... JUST KIDDING!
Seriously though, I think this word of the day thing is gonna be great.
So get ready guys, DG's becoming a big wordsmith...
But for now I'm going work out how I am going to get legerdemain into my conversational day without looking like a total moron.
Happy New Year peeps!
DG
X
My New Year's Eve was spent in the Wild West Erm... Country with Jenny M. I've known her for more than 20 years now and, as we've never spent a New Year's Eve together before, this year we decided to.
After an amazing Thai meal, we finally ended up, post midnight, in a cellar club dancing to bad music surrounded by terribly drunk men and creatively dressed women. There was enough synthetic material in the place that one spark and the whole club would have burst into flames.
Anyway, as I said, Jenny M and I have been mates for more than 20 years now and she knows me very well, which is why my Christmas present from her was bloody brilliant.
It's a desk calendar that has a new interesting word every day.
You see, Jenny M remembered me lamenting about my small vocabulary on various occasions so decided to help me out.
I have quite a few theories about why my vocabulary knowledge is so pitifully small and the main one is that I lost the bulk of my hearing in my teenage years, when your grown-up big vocabulary knowledge flourishes. That said, I could have added to it by reading lots and lots of books, but I was happier not doing that, and in addition to this, I actually became quite phobic of saying words I wasn't familiar with in case they came out wrong, so instead I stuck to the fail-safe vocab of my childhood. Indeed I lost count of the number of Alevel English essays I got back with the comment 'Use bigger, more varied and mature vocabulary please' accompanied by a nice shiny D grade.
In my 20s when I moved to London I decided I should really work on my word knowledge and started trying to learn and use big words. I read my thesaurus regularly, and I combed the archives of my mind for word replacements, with varying degrees of success.
I spent ages using the word peruse in the place of browse, only to discover it actually only applied to reading through something. I got profound and profuse muddled up and, as many of you will know I mispronounced Versailles, while I was actually in the bloomin' place. It took two weeks of solid practice to get that one right and even then I sound a bit Cockney when I say it so as a result tend to refer to it as that palace outside Paris.
So yesterday I opened my word of the day calendar with glee and to my absolute amazement in the opening section was an Abbreviated Pronunciation Key, telling me how I could work out the way to say a word. Amazing huh?
And my first word of the year was Retrodict, which means to utilise present information or ideas to explain (as a past event). Useful sentences with this in please peeps?
Today's word of the day is Legerdemain. This means sleight of hand or a display of skill. So does this mean I could say Deafinitely Girly used culinary legerdemain to conceal the fact she forgot to add enough eggs to her wedding cake, avoiding having to bake 120 cupcakes all over again?
And to all the brides I've baked for... JUST KIDDING!
Seriously though, I think this word of the day thing is gonna be great.
So get ready guys, DG's becoming a big wordsmith...
But for now I'm going work out how I am going to get legerdemain into my conversational day without looking like a total moron.
Happy New Year peeps!
DG
X
Friday, 28 December 2012
Blogging from my new iPhone
Phew, Christmas went by in a flash, didn't it?
Seems like yesterday I was arriving home at the rents, laden down with presents and bags, excited to be spending the festive season with them.
And honestly, it's been amazing. Brilliant fun, brilliantly relaxing, brilliant food. In fact, the only thing it's not been brilliant for, is my clothes. They're all too tight as I failed to resist the lure of the cherseboard.
One of my Christmas presets was a shiny new iPhone upgrade in the form of an iPhone 4S. I've had my treasured iPhone 3, mark 2, since I dropped the first one down the loo at my 30th birthday party almost two and a half years ago and it's been a wonderful companion. But recently the middle button, which on iPhones is rather crucial, has stopped working.
So for Christmas, Ma offered to pay for a new phone. I wanted to pay more up front to keep my monthly bill down, so we arrived at the O2 stored ready to pay rather a lot. *gulp
Anyway, I love O2 staff. I've never met one that's provided bad customer service and the lovely Alex at my rents' local O2 shop was no exception. He listened to exactly what I wanted, and then came up with an affordable monthly contract with the phone costing £30. Thirty pounds!!!!!!
Ma was delighted at this, so delighted that she upgraded her 20-year-old brick of a phone to an iPhone 4S, too... Without any hesitation.
Alex had struck gold.
So what do I think of my swanky new iPhone 4S? Well, the middle button works, which is a lovely treat and it's so fast and shiny. Everything happens immediately where as my iPhone 3 seemed to be constantly groaning under the weight of my demands.
Better still I've got a few more shiny new apps on it, such as the Blogger app, which means I can update my blog even more easily than before. And considering I haven't blogged in so long you've all probably forgotten I have a blog, this is definitely no bad thing.
But my New Years resolution is to blog more and with my shiny new iPhone it just got a lot easier.
Roll on 2013 peeps, roll it on!
DG
X
Seems like yesterday I was arriving home at the rents, laden down with presents and bags, excited to be spending the festive season with them.
And honestly, it's been amazing. Brilliant fun, brilliantly relaxing, brilliant food. In fact, the only thing it's not been brilliant for, is my clothes. They're all too tight as I failed to resist the lure of the cherseboard.
One of my Christmas presets was a shiny new iPhone upgrade in the form of an iPhone 4S. I've had my treasured iPhone 3, mark 2, since I dropped the first one down the loo at my 30th birthday party almost two and a half years ago and it's been a wonderful companion. But recently the middle button, which on iPhones is rather crucial, has stopped working.
So for Christmas, Ma offered to pay for a new phone. I wanted to pay more up front to keep my monthly bill down, so we arrived at the O2 stored ready to pay rather a lot. *gulp
Anyway, I love O2 staff. I've never met one that's provided bad customer service and the lovely Alex at my rents' local O2 shop was no exception. He listened to exactly what I wanted, and then came up with an affordable monthly contract with the phone costing £30. Thirty pounds!!!!!!
Ma was delighted at this, so delighted that she upgraded her 20-year-old brick of a phone to an iPhone 4S, too... Without any hesitation.
Alex had struck gold.
So what do I think of my swanky new iPhone 4S? Well, the middle button works, which is a lovely treat and it's so fast and shiny. Everything happens immediately where as my iPhone 3 seemed to be constantly groaning under the weight of my demands.
Better still I've got a few more shiny new apps on it, such as the Blogger app, which means I can update my blog even more easily than before. And considering I haven't blogged in so long you've all probably forgotten I have a blog, this is definitely no bad thing.
But my New Years resolution is to blog more and with my shiny new iPhone it just got a lot easier.
Roll on 2013 peeps, roll it on!
DG
X
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
My deaf fire alarm
Yesterday, I came into possession of some free baking potatoes – not through theft I might add.
'Excellent,' I thought as I did a mental Ready Steady Cook thinking about the beans and cheese I knew I already had at home.
But of course jacket potatoes, if you want them with tasty skins are not something to hurry but given the fact that my hunger rating has been off the scale recently, a two-hour slow cook in my beloved Smeg oven was out of the question.
So instead I scrubbed my potato and stuffed it in the microwave for 5 minutes while cranking my oven up to its top fan-assisted heat setting.
The microwave pinged – allegedly as even my new aids don't give me this sound – and I transferred my somewhat gelatinous baked potato to the shelf of my rather hot oven wishing the skin would crisp quickly.
Ten minutes later I opened the oven door and discovered that my Smeg oven is seemingly capable of solar-like temperatures. My jacket potato was in danger of becoming a cinder of its former self.
I quickly scooped it up, plonked on the hot beans and added a little sprinkle (ha, can anyone actually just have a little sprinkle?!) of grated cheese followed by a dash of Tabasco and some sea salt flakes.
It looked delicious.
But then, from amongst the whirr of my oven cooling down and the low hum of my TV, another sound began to penetrate my hearing aids.
'What is that?!' I wondered as I stood and listened for a second gradually realising it was a low buzzing sound. I picked up my door phone thinking someone was outside but it wasn't that. And then I remembered I'd just burnt my jacket potato in an oven that was hotter than the sun and flew into my bedroom.
There was a disco going on.
The fire alarm strobe was flashing in a retina scorching manner and the vibrating box? Well to ensure I am awoken in a fire, this is sandwiched between the mattress and the wooden bed frame and the wood acts as the most amazing sound conductor. I picked it up in a panic, before realising that I had to put it back down and go and waft my smoke alarm to shut it up. I grabbed the closest thing to waft with – my pyjama bottoms – and legged it to my hallway, flailing wildly underneath my smoke alarm, which is miles away given the height of my ceilings. The disco continued in the next room.
Mid flail, I anticipated just what kind of email I'd be receiving from my neighbour.
Then finally, everything was calm.
Well everything except for me that is. I was shaking like a Powerplate stuck on high. Adrenalin coursed through my veins, my hair looked like I'd been dragged through a hedge backwards after it had become tangled up in the flapping pyjama bottoms, and my dinner?
Well thankfully as it'd baked it in an oven that was hotter than the sun, it was still nice and warm and the sprinkling (ha!) of cheese had melted nicely.
As I sat there munching away, marvelling at what had just happened, I couldn't help wondering how it is that I can bake such marvellous cakes and dream up quite bonkers recipes but when it comes to simple things, such as boiling eggs (they explode), stir-fries (I always cook the meat to death for fear of poisoning my guests), cheese on toast (another fire alarm causing meal of mine - how do you stop the corners from catching fire?), and indeed baked potatoes, I'm completely hopeless.
It takes me right back to my school days when my chocolate pudding exploded in my pressure cooker, came through the valve and decorated the ceiling like a cow on laxatives.
So tonight I am doing the following for dinner – making sure someone cooks it for me. Any offers?
DG
x
Monday, 26 November 2012
My life enhancing hearing aids
This morning I put my hearing aids in earlier than normal after waking up at 5.30am and not being able to get back to sleep.
I lay there listening to the sounds of a Monday morning and marvelling at just how loud everything sounds in my flat.
What I could mainly hear however, was the pub around the corner and up the road from me getting a keg delivery. It was making a racket. I'd never heard that in my flat before.
It's been like that a lot recently – hearing things I've never heard before. Yesterday while visiting NikNak and chatting to her in her living room I was aware of some noise filtering through. 'What is that?' I asked her, baffled. 'Church bells!' she replied. I was amazed and I think she was a bit, too. I mean, I can only hear church bells normally if I'm right by the church in question.
It's been a bit of a shock. After all, you know how much I liked my pre-hearing aid world. I think, because I can lipread so well and London is quite a noisy place, I never really thought about what I wasn't hearing. And it's not like I could have told you what I wasn't hearing because I didn't know those sounds existed.
The only thing that really really reminded me that I couldn't hear was the fact that I was completely reliant on subtitles to follow anything on the TV.
But get this...
Again, while at NikNak's house yesterday, there was a Peppa Pig DVD playing on a loop as Mini K was poorly and being a massive Peppa fan, this was taking her mind off things.
At one point the entire family were out of the room doing things except for me and Mini K and so we sat in companionable silence watching precocious Peppa flounce around the screen. And do you know what? I could pick up words. I heard actually words from the TV without any subtitles to give me a clue. I could make out enough to work out what was going on in the world of Peppa Pig. OK, so this is a cartoon with kid's language but it's a cartoon, and you can't lipread cartoons!!
How utterly brilliant is that?!
When my audiologist said my hearing aids would get better over time, I didn't really believe him. I kinda thought it was a ploy on his part to get me to keep them in and give them a chance. But I'm quite excited that in December I can go back for my appointment and tell him that they do work, even though he probably knew that already.
They are not miracles and I am not hearing. I am Deafinitely Girly and always will be. But they are life enhancers. And right now, I'm more than happy to have a little bit of that in my world.
Happy Monday peeps!
DG
x
Friday, 23 November 2012
Hearing the rain
Today is Thankful Friday and I'm thankful for the way that each of my individual friends inspires or teaches me something.
Lesson one was from Miss H in the art of confrontation, after an old lady was rude to us in a café on Monday. You see, this café is amazing but as a result it's also always rammed. We queued politely to get to the counter where we ordered our food and prayed a table would become available. Then all of sudden a table became available. But quick as a flash the old ladies behind us went and put their coats on the seats, effectively reserving four places for just them. We naturally, with nowhere else to sit, and after checking there were really just two old ladies, went and moved their coats to just two seats and sat down.
The first old lady scuttled over a few minutes later and started on Miss H. 'You've taken our place that we reserved,' she ranted as I struggled to follow what she was bleating about. Miss H sweetly replied that it really wasn't the kind of place where you could reserve seats and we continued our lunch. The old lady then started saying we'd taken the whole table by putting our coats on the seat by Miss H, but mid rant she was stopped by her friend who pointed out that the coat and bag she was referring to was in fact hers. Finally, the first old lady shut up and sat down. But what I found amazing was how Miss H stood her ground. She was polite but firm and the whole episode did nothing but present the old lady as a rude old bag who though age gave her the right to walk all over the younger generation. It does not.
My second lesson was about happiness and came from Fab Friend who paid me an impromptu visit this week after locking herself out of her flat.
She's recently been to India -– first to Mumbai on business and then to Goa for a yoga retreat – and as I was listening to her talk about everything, I was utterly inspired by her attitude to life right now. She's doing amazing, exciting and sometimes downright terrifying things all the time, she's challenging herself and she's happy.
Lesson number three came Uni Housemate who stayed with me while in town on business this week. As we chatted about the things that were on my mind she gave me the most fabulous peek at the other side of the grass and reminded me how the grass can be green on both sides you know.
And Lesson number 4? Well that came from me. Recently I've found myself feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the changes happening around me. But last night, as I was sat on my sofa, I started to wonder why I couldn't hear the TV anymore. There was the most insane noise coming through my hearing aids. I sat there for a moment listening to it before finally realising it was the rain. I could hear actual rain from inside a house. Wondering if it was particularly noisy rain, I took out my hearing aids, and it went quiet, then I put them back in and the amazing clattering, battering, syncopated rhythm of the rain came clamouring through again. It was amazing, and as I continued to listen, I was reminded that while change happens its not always a bad thing.
My hearing aids are changing my life. And that makes this a very Thankful Friday.
Tuesday, 20 November 2012
Bye bye internet dating
Yesterday I closed my online dating profile and breathed a big sigh of relief.
It was for the best really. My heart wasn't in it. My head wasn't in it and my diary certainly wasn't having a bean of it. I realised halfway through writing an email to Trifle Man that suggesting meeting in January probably wasn't going to be conducive to getting to know each other and that I was wrong to keep putting him off. However, that doesn't really explain why he felt the need to reply with a picture of himself sat on a horse.
Anyway, I've ventured into the world of online dating several times since I move to London as a wide-eyed graduate 10 years ago. Through online dating, I've also met some lovely people such as Wise Friend and GBman, both of whom I am still good friends with. But perhaps that's where I'm going wrong. I mean, I love that I now know Wise Friend and GBman when otherwise our paths would never have crossed, but really I seem to be a success story only when it comes to Internet Friending.
I am rubbish at the dating part of things...
Take the time the guy told me about his IBS and lengthy toilet trips in the second minute of our first conversation, just as I bit into a chocolate brownie (the rest went straight in the bin). Or the guy who told me that he liked me but I had to make all the effort as he was done doing that with girls then asked me to get him a pint. I calmly walked to the bar and then just kept on walking, into the night, muttering under my breath like some crazy lady in complete disbelief that men like that actually existed.
Then there was the one who asked me how long my longest relationship was, then proceeded to tell me I was obviously a commitment phobe and was I aware of this? 'You're the one who's pushing 45 and acting like a 23 year old,' I wanted to scream. But instead I ordered a very overpriced gin and tonic at the very overpriced bar he had chosen before excusing myself of his company and the bill and getting the bus home.
I could go on, but it only gets worse. There was the man who was so insanely boring that I fell asleep at the bar where we were drinking and only to wake up when my head hit the table and find he hadn't actually noticed. And the man who when I told him I was deaf, after we had met in a particularly loud and dark bar, simply made his excuses and left, *sniff. And then there was the one who decided that we were going to get married and live happily ever after before I'd even agreed to meet him for a drink. Needless to say the drink never happened.
Internet dating is not all about the horror stories – I have proof of this as several of my happily married/engaged friends met this way. But I don't think it's the way for me. I can't do the whole small talk with strangers over email any longer. I don't want pictures of men with trifles cluttering up my inbox or guys telling me I must be a commitment phobe (although it may well be true). I don't want to be judged on my deafness, my height, weight or personality from afar, or in person on the first meeting and I know don't want to be the person who does that either, because honestly internet dating does make you a little judgey…
So I'm stepping out of cyberspace and into reality.
And as long as no one emails me a picture of themselves with a trifle, it should all be ok… (I. MUST. STOP. BEING. JUDGEY)
I'll keep you posted.
DG
x
Tuesday, 13 November 2012
The power of (deaf) Twitter
Every day I am more and more amazed by the power of Twitter.
Twitter – in all it's 140 characters of sometimes hilarity, sometimes abuse and often just random chatter – is becoming quite a fixture in my life.
But not just in a way to showcase my latest baked goods or banter with some of my favourite Twitter peeps – come back soon @grouchotendency – but in a way of finding out stuff, accessing information that I would otherwise struggle to access and get things done where once, only a phone call would do.
Take yesterday for example. I finally took the plunge and applied to Thames Water for a water meter. After all, there is only me in my flat, I don't have a dishwasher, I take showers not baths, and I do one load of washing a week. I even brush my teeth with the tap turned off. So I had begun to resent paying so much for water, when I clearly wasn't using it.
I applied online for the meter. It was compulsory to put your phone number and email address and when I hit send, I got a notification message that someone would be calling me to arrange a home visit to check whether my house was suitable for a meter.
'Bother' I thought, dreading that unrecognised number flashing up on my telephone and I immediately tweeted about this issue and thought nothing more about it.
But then, this morning, I received a tweet from Kirsty @ThamesWater asking me if there was anything she could do to help – she'd obviously seen my indirect mention of Thames Water from the previous day. I told her my predicament and she started following me on Twitter so that I could DM her my details.
As a result of this, there is a now a note on my details making sure that I am only contacted by post and email and apparently also, there is a letter about someone coming to check whether it's possible to have a water meter fitted and appointment times. So no phone calls will be needed.
Amazing huh?
All that from Twitter.
It's not the first time I've sorted something that I'd otherwise need the phone for. The marvellous peeps on the @o2 Twitter feed sorted out my home broadband, if I tweet that I'm not well, friends will offer to ring the GP, and when I locked myself out of my flat, lovely peeps as far away as Edinburgh offered their ears to make calls for me.
And let's not forget last Friday evening when my First Great Western train was diverted via Bath and Bristol. Unable to hear the announcements, I tweeted @FGW and the lovely Ollie got straight back to me explaining that the diversion and delay were due to signal failure.
When I joined Twitter all those years ago, I thought it'd be fun – a way of spreading the Deafinitely Girly word. But what it's becoming more and more is a way to help me live my life – a productive, informative, phone-call free, deaf-friendly way.
That and a way to win books – since I've joined Twitter, I have won a lot of books.
Twitter doesn't have to be about trolling or controversy. It's possible to turn it into a little information machine, another pair of ears in a very un-deaf-friendly world. People like @Kidsaudiologist who advised me when I had a hearing wobble or @paulbelmontesli who offers advice on everything from chocolate to well, everything actually.
I never thought it was possible. But it really is.
And let's not forget half the guest list for my Accidental Wedding in April is coming from Twitter. Including @KatieFforde who is my maid of honour – who I met on Twitter because of my love of cooking.
Thanks to my First Great Western delay I bashed out more than the first two chapters of The Accidental Wedding on the train last Friday…
Better get writing faster though if the wedding's in April really, hadn't I?
Save the date peeps! Save the date!
Monday, 5 November 2012
Hearing aid update: my flute and Paper Aeroplanes
Yesterday was a music-filled day and I loved it.
You see, since coming home on Friday evening after work, broken from my week of partying, I wasn't able to get the amazement that I'd been able to hear my neighbour's daughter playing her flute in the downstairs flat.
I mean, if I could hear that flute, then surely I'd be able to hear my own.
So yesterday afternoon I decide to locate my flute and all my sheet music, both of which were buried right at the back of my spare room underneath the bed, where I hid them to try and dull the sadness I felt at not being able to play anymore when I moved in three years ago.
I loved my flute. As a violinist from the age of 6, I begged the rents to let me play the flute too, but my amazing flute teacher-to-be said I had to be 10 years old so that I was big enough to reach the keys without constricting my rib cage and breathing.
On my 10th birthday I had my first lesson. It was love at first hear and I flew up the grades.
When I lost more hearing in my teens, I just ploughed on through, playing my pieces an octave lower until I knew the tune then dealing with the silence the higher notes brought.
When I moved to London I sought out a teacher. He was amazing. He taught me sound visualisation so that I got the right diaphragm pressure to create the high notes I couldn't hear.
But instead of being happy, I found myself being a ball of emotion in my fortnightly lessons. I cried frequently, sometimes out of sadness but mostly out of frustration that I was no longer getting the same enjoyment from my flute.
It affected everything and I could feel a growing resentment for my deafness – something I'd fought hard to overcome, so in the end I stopped my lessons and banished the flute to the depths of my underbed storage.
So you see, really, yesterday wasn't really just about seeing whether the Sound Recover on my new Phonaks was going to help me get my flute back.
I started with some trepidation, warming up with a few Bach studies and Morceau de Concours by Claude Arrieu. The sound came. My lungs seemed horrified at the breathing I was asking them to do.
And the sound?
Well, I think I could hear the Sound Recover function's adjustment of the higher notes but the problem was, these weren't moved into a harmonious place, the notes were jarring with the pitch of the note I was actually playing.
It was so frustrating.
It would be like playing a piano piece with the left in the correct key and the right hand a semitone apart from what it should be. It was not pretty.
But it made me wonder – and if any knowledgeable hearing aid peeps could answer this I'd be eternally grateful – can the Sound Recover be moved so that the notes come out in harmony or even better an octave lower? Is there anything I can do to improve this? Or is it something that will improve over time?
What I can confirm is that yesterday I enjoyed playing more than I have done in a long time. My hearing aids definitely made the music better and because of this, I played better. I wasn't nearly as rusty as I'd thought I'd be and practising the fast-moving high bits was easier and more rewarding because I wasn't just hearing nothing. OK, it was a slightly out of key Sound-Recovered pitch, but beggars really can't be choosers.
Then yesterday evening, I went to see Paper Aeroplanes – a Welsh band – at The Lexington with HB. I first discovered Paper Aeroplanes after Shazam-ing a song of theirs and it too was love at first listen. They're splendid. And yesterday, they didn't disappoint.
Cautiously I wore my ear plugs for most of the gig, still terrified from my Pavlov's Dog experience, but for the encore I took out my ear plugs and put in my hearing aids and it was wonderful. Notes shone through, lyrics became a little bit easier to lipread and I was in audio heaven.
As I drove home along the Marylebone Road, singing at the top of my voice to my booming stereo, I marvelled at how much I love these little pieces of technology adorning my ears. I love them in a way I never expected. They're enhancing my life on a daily basis, and I'm not even at the 12-week mark yet.
Now all I have to do, is get Sound Recover at the correct pitch spacing. Perhaps I should just take my flute to my next hearing appointment.
I mean, that wouldn't be weird at all, right?
Thursday, 18 October 2012
Deaf Girly's quilt of memories
This week I have a very important to-do list and it goes like this:
- Watch Grand Designs while drinking a beer
- Dance around the flat to Flashdance
- Iron badly
- Cook inedible boiled potatoes and eat them with lashings of Ketchup and pie
- Peer through all the windows at dusk of the houses of people who leave their curtains open
- Cook perfect basmati rice
- Fall asleep when I should be doing chores
- Seek out Gilbert & George
- Play a Fender guitar
- Cycle through London
- Speak Spanish
- Get someone to buy me a weekly travelcard
- Wander through Soho in the early hours
- Go drinking in a roof-top bar in Covent Garden
- Build a houseful of flatpack furniture
You see, when someone leaves your life, they don't just leave behind a gaping hole – although that is the thing that seems to dominate the horizon for a long time afterwards – they leave behind this amazing patchwork of experiences and memories and each person that knew them has their own quilt of them.
This is my quilt. It's well worn and loved. It's treasured and cared for. I feel lucky to have it and be able to share it.
I feel lucky it was ever made at all…
Tuesday, 16 October 2012
Deafinitely Girly's available for dates*
This month I am 32.
It seems like yesterday that I turned 30, surrounded by a wonderful selection of my family and friends at my favourite local pub, drinking rum – which makes me fun – and diet coke.
What's odd, is that that night, I thought that perhaps I may be one step closer to growing up a teensy bit. 'This is it,' I thought, as I dressed in shoes so high I couldn't walk and piled on the black eye liner. 'I am now a grown-up.'
And that night, I clearly started as I meant to go on. I was a social whirlwind, chatting to as many people as I possibly could. Introducing people by their blog names, which made a whole lot more sense that their real name. 'Oh, you're Blanco,' SuperCathyFragileMystic declared, while GBman and the Singing Swede met Gym Buddy and her husband.
I had a guy there at my 30th birthday party. A person I had been on one to two dates with, who after MUCH wine one evening I had invited to my 30th. I never expected him to come, but amazingly, he turned up, late, and ignored me for much of the evening.
But in all honesty, I barely noticed as I was accidentally kissing the hot bar manager at the pub who I had fancied since moving to the area one year earlier.
Disgraceful? Heck no, I was just being 30 after all.
The evening moved back to my flat, where I had seven friends staying. I'd like to say my memories are crystal clear, but they're not. And it's not the age that caused that, unless you count how old the rum was that I was knocking back.
Bad DG? Er no, I don't think so. I was just being 30 after all.
At around 2am, the cute bar manager texted me. I shoved my phone in my back pocket and went to my bathroom and sat on the loo.
The next thing that all seven of my guests heard me wailing was, 'My iPhonnnnnnnne!!!!! My iPhoneeeeeeeeeee' as the realisation that it had fallen out of my back pocket and into my toilet dawned on me.
I fished it out in a panic and looked at the waterlogged blank screen. My friends came to the rescue with helpful suggestions that would see me locating my sad and sorry phone on the radiator, which was off, hidden in a boil-in-the-bag rice sachet the next morning.
It never worked again… taking with it the number of the sexy bar manager – who turned out to be 22 incidentally – and a host of treasured 30th birthday text messages. Plus the number of the guy I had been dating, but lets face it wouldn't be seeing again, after my accidental snogging of the bar manager.
In one clear manoeuvre I wiped two men out of my life. And I wasn't really bothered.
But really two years on has anything changed?
I think so.
The guy I was dating was an utter prat – I don't date prats anymore. I'd rather be single.
The guy I kissed was a complete player – I am DONE with players now. I'd rather be single.
And my iPhone? Well, there's no way on earth I'm peeing on it again this year.
However, if a non-player, non-pratty bloke, who doesn't send me photos of himself with the trifle he made that weekend (DO. NOT. ASK) or talk about his special relationship with his dog before we've even had our first date (EVEN. I. DIDN'T. ASK. ABOUT. THAT. ONE) happens to come into my life, I finally think that I might actually be a little bit happy about this.
So I guess what I'm saying is that Deafinitely Girly is available for dates* (*not with people I've never met, scary stalkers or complete nutters I might add). This year I'm older, wiser and with a clean and shiny – if a little bit retro – iPhone 3GS.
Monday, 15 October 2012
Deaf Girly's hearing aid update
So, I have been a hearing aid wearer for almost two whole weeks.
After the euphoria of being able to hear iPhone ringtones died down, it was time to get down to the bare-boned reality of life with my new ears and of course, with the smooth, there has been some rough.
Not least, because I managed to catch the worst cold I've had in quite some time. The kind of cold where your voice drops two octaves and takes on that husky tone that sounds like you've had a 40-a-day fag habit since birth.
My sinuses were filled to the brim, my eyeballs felt like they were popping out and I had a cough that sounded as though Stomp the musical was being premiered in my lungs.
I wanted a new head. And instead, I had hearing aids that amplified my every single sound. Last Tuesday I could take it no more and yanked those darn things out of ears and onto the desk. Yes, it was quieter, but I no longer sounded like Darth Vader's wife or felt as though I was claustrophobic inside my own head.
You see, the problem with being claustrophobic inside your own head is that there's no escape. You can't step into a bigger head with more space. You're stuck. But taking the hearing aids off did give me some much-needed breathing space.
But don't think I gave up there. No, no, no – I persevered through the headcold hell. Every morning last week, I got up and put my hearing aids on. I travelled to work – sucking on sweets and sipping water to keep my dreadful hacking at bay – and kept them in for as long as I could possibly bear.
I did well.
By Friday, when I flew to Amsterdam to see Big Bro, I was more snot filled than ever. I got on the plane and informed the cabin staff of my deafness, asking them to let me know about any announcements – even the 'WE'RE GOING TO CRASH' ones and sat down.
The engines fired up and I ducked as though we were under attack. The lady next to me jumped in panic and so to avoid a mid-air riot of jumpy passengers, I took my hearing aids out.
It. Was. Bliss.
And what I've realised over the last few weeks is that these aids aren't like my old aids. They don't give me so much amplification that everything sounds horribly quiet when I take them out. They just amplify the right bits. So when those bits get too overwhelming or noisy, I can whip out my aids in record time.
The only downside to this is I am getting through rather a lot of batteries. You see I haven't quite coordinated the turning off thing alongside the taking out thing yet, which is done by opening the battery case.
I should probably do this once they're out and safely in my hand, but by the time I get the urge to take them out, I'm usually in such a flap that I turn them off first, at speed, opening the battery casing and sending the small silver battery flying in whatever direction I propel it in.
Heathrow Terminal 4 has two such batteries in its check-in area now, and the London-Amsterdam flight has one, too – I think that latter actually travelled the length of the cabin all the way to first class.
But on the whole, the hearing aid adventure is going well. They helped me understand my little nephews better and follow Big Bro and his family's conversation – well the English bits anyway – as they chatted around the kitchen table.
And as I'm only a quarter of the way through the getting-used-to-my-new-hearing-aids period, hopefully there'll be better things to come.
Will keep you posted peeps.
DG
x
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