living with hearing loss
How I Cope When They Can’t See That I (Sometimes) Can’t Hear By Heather Chambers
Recently my family and I flew into Miami International Airport on the way home from vacation. What should have been a short layover turned into a six hour ordeal while a violent storm played havoc with airport operations. Active thunder and lightning directly over the runway meant planes, bags, and passengers could not move. People were stuck in the baggage reclaim hall, bags were stuck on the planes, and all we could do was wait for the weather to pass. I already find airports overwhelming and uncomfortable. The vast echoey spaces, rumbling machinery, and masses of people make it hard for me to pick out the sounds I need to hear. I have an auditory processing issue that has never been properly diagnosed. I know I can hear everything in isolation, but add interference and I can’t distinguish or focus on distinct sounds. It’s like my noise-canceling feature is broken. I have, of course, considered seeking further testing to nail down the exact nature of the issue, but it’s an expensive and time-consuming process so I’ve just tried to cope with it the best I can. Auditory processing disorders (APD, also known as central auditory processing disorders, CAPD) are hard to explain as there’s no singular definition. Sufferers experience APD in different ways. It’s not nearly as straightforward as being partially deaf or just missing a few words, and it gets worse or better depending on the environment. My hearing is technically perfect, but when you perceive all sounds at the same volume it’s hard to 20
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actively listen to what I need to actually hear. An equation of acoustics, noise levels, and proximity determines whether I’ll struggle on a given day or not. It’s like being hard of hearing, but not in all situations. Loud and busy places become incredibly triggering. First comes anxiety (when you can’t hear, you don’t know what you missed), swiftly followed by irritation and anger. It’s frustrating to be unable to do something others don’t need to think twice about. I don’t even consider it a disability as most of the time I can hear just fine—except when I can’t! I don’t normally talk about it and there’s no special needs lanyard or visible hearing aid as a clue, so no one knows there’s an issue until I raise a flag about it. And even that can be a tricky conversation. Trying to explain APD to a stranger is a challenge! Even friends and family members can be perplexed. I’ve dealt with rude questions such as “is that really a thing?” and minimizing and denial—“we all get that sometimes” and “that’s just you not paying attention”—none of which are helpful or provide a solution. My current coping strategy is to keep it vague, and make sure I identify the problem as mine. That day in Miami, I approached a staff member with a question. He was moving Tensabarrier stanchions around as I spoke. He started his response, looked away from me and, turning back around, scraped a metal post on the floor. I caught none of his answer. This happens a lot, and I’ve formulated the exact thing
