Falling on DEAF EARS
A huge number of Irish people struggle with hearing loss because of the stigma attached to treatment. Lisa Brady know – she was one of them
TURNING a deaf ear is something I’m pretty familiar with. Not because I’m ignoring something or someone (although it may seem like it), but because it’s something I’ve literally been doing most of my adult life. You see, I have profound hearing loss in my right ear. It has become so bad that I am no longer able to decipher speech in that ear. And until recently I had refused to do anything about it.
It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when my hearing started to worsen, but I remember spending a holiday in my mid-20s convinced that there was something seriously wrong with me because of a ringing in my right ear. Never one to jump to conclusions, I was sure it was a brain tumour and promptly went to my GP when I got back, who sent me to an ENT specialist.
There, I was told that I didn’t have a brain tumour (although my symptoms were indeed similar to an acoustic neuroma, a benign growth on the auditory nerves that causes hearing loss) — but a congenital condition called otosclerosis. This is an abnormal growth of bone near the middle ear, resulting in the ossicles (bones) knitting together, which causes a fixation of the stapes bones. The calcification worsens with age and causes conductive hearing loss, meaning that sound no longer vibrates effectively to the eardrum.
The damage was irreversible. My hearing would further diminish with time and with major hormonal changes such as during pregnancy. It may even begin to affect my healthy ear.
I had two options, I was told. The first was surgical: a stapedectomy, which carried a one in ten risk of rendering me completely deaf on the affected side. The second treatment was a hearing aid.
Horrified at this prognosis in my 20s, I chose a third. To do nothing and carry on my life just as I had been doing.
It seems I’m in good company. Research commissioned by Specsavers last year revealed that 69% of Irish adults have not had a hearing test in the last five years. Complacency? Perhaps. But most likely embarrassment and, like me, vanity.
For almost 13 years I got away with it. Having unilateral (onesided) hearing loss that develops over time made it easier, as I’m familiar to the world of speech and sound.
MY WORK as a journalist means that I have to conduct interviews, and accuracy is paramount. But I always managed to pull through, even if it meant asking the same questions over and over again. If I was working on the phone, I could even blame a bad line.
My deafness became a bit of a joke among my family and friends, and something I myself used to mock, shrugging off the disability with excuses of being ‘deaf as a post’. In social situations my predicament was exacerbated, but I managed one-on-one conversations by making sure the person I was speaking with was seated to my left.
But at a busy event or dinner party, I was acutely aware that I was struggling. I would nod tentatively and hope it was appropriate to laugh as a response to a misheard question when I felt I could no longer say the dreaded word ‘What?’ one more time.
It was potentially hazardous, embarrassing and above all else, it was tiring. My confidence was starting to be affected — if I couldn’t hear what people were saying and remained silent or responded with something ridiculous, would people think me aloof, or plain daft?
So after my second daughter was born — by now I was cocking my head to the side in noisy environments to hear properly — I had ‘get my hearing sorted’ on my to-do list. I knew surgery was out of the question, which left me one alternative — a hearing aid.
Now, this seemed as attractive to me as wearing a banana behind my ear. I was working on shifting the baby weight and had bought myself a brand new work wardrobe. I even bought a new pair of glasses — but a hearing aid? That’s one range I couldn’t see being endorsed by a gorgeous, aspirational celebrity.
It seems we have no problem dressing up our failing eyesight. But hearing loss is something to be
kept under wraps, something elderly people have to deal with alongside incontinence pants, right? The last thing I needed was a reason to be self-conscious — an unsightly contraption to dampen my shaky returning confidence.
So it was with much trepidation that I visited audiologist Orla Walsh at a Specsavers Hearing Centre. The first thing I had to do was undergo a hearing test. It’s a simple three-minute test to begin with, but because Orla knew I was interested in getting a hearing aid, she did a lengthier test to basically ‘tune’ the device.
She revealed on a chart the true extent of my deafness in my right ear. It had worsened to the point where the only syllable I could decipher in normal speech range was ‘u’ and I was no longer able to hear softer nature sounds like birds singing or low-pitched music. Seeing this in black and white was shocking but it made sense. I was no longer able to hear my baby crying at night when I slept on my left side (much to the grievance of my husband).
‘Younger clients generally come in for a hearing test after starting a new job or getting a promotion with more responsibility, or if they have just had a baby and realise they can’t hear them crying,’ she said. ‘It usually takes a big trigger to make them react.’
Although it’s estimated that one in six Irish people struggle with hearing loss, it tends to be something we simply ignore — or just don’t talk about.
LIKE me, Orla said, most young people who present to her with hearing problems usually have conductive issues (such as otosclerosis or ear infections that leave scarring on the tympanic membrane) and many resist wearing hearing aids because they feel they are too young.
‘If you have a hearing problem and you are ignoring it, you’re missing out on life,’ says Orla, adding that hearing loss can come hand in hand with emotional problems like anxiety and depression. ‘It can be a very isolating experience.’
For someone who has seen (or not heard!) this first hand, I understand well what she means.
The moment of truth arrives and Orla produces the device that would change my life. It’s a Widex Unique 440 — the Rolls-Royce of hearing aids, for the uninitiated like myself.
Your audiologist programmes it by app, and the best part? For all its minute sleekness and fascinating technology (it classifies what kind of sound environment you are in and adapts accordingly to give you the best possible listening experience), it’s completely invisible to the outside world. Believe me, I’ve studied this model every which way, and encouraged my family and friends to do the same.
The technology (including a battery, which lasts about four days) is housed in a tiny little device that hides behind the ear, and a transparent wire connects this to the ear set in the ear canal.
The first time I put it in, it felt strange. Really strange. And everything sounded very, very loud.
‘That’s totally natural,’ Orla said. ‘Initially, you will feel like you have a foreign object in your ear as your body and brain adjust to it,’ she added, telling me to limit my usage to five hours a day at first.
I was somewhat disappointed that my journey into normal hearing was not as dramatic as those sentimental YouTube clips, where babies are given cochlear implants and hear their mothers’ voices for the first time. Initially I found conversation and general noise overwhelming and a bit irritating as I learnt how to effectively listen again. My ear also felt a little hot and itchy, as if there was something lodged in there — until I became used to this high-tech device which was changing how I perceived the world.
A couple of months later I returned to Orla for a check-up and progress evaluation. My aid, which had been tuned on the lowest setting, had adjusted to the highest hearing level with no issues.
Viewing my month-by-month use on the app, Orla was able to tell me a lot about the environments I spend my time in — 7% in transport, 6% listening to music and a massive 28% partying (this I definitely questioned, and Orla explained how the aid translates very noisy environments — cue screaming children — as akin to noisy socialising).
Initially, even though it was apparent that the hearing aid was beginning to do amazing things for my working and home life, I remained coy about my hearing difficulties. It took some time for me to dispel that belief I had spun about it being a weakness I had to suffer.
NOW I have gone from a person who resolutely refused to wear a hearing aid to someone who is proud to say I do — because I had a problem and I did something about it. And attitudes towards wearing hearing aids seem to be shifting, with the vast majority of people surveyed by Specsavers (90%) saying that they would wear them if it was recommended.
Wearing my hearing aid has become as integral to the day as brushing my teeth. I can’t leave the house without it, and if I do, I go back and get it.
The benefits are life-changing. I’m no longer constantly saying ‘what’ or ‘pardon’; my confidence in work and social situations has grown because I can fully engage in conversation. The TV is no longer blaring, and in a way, having the full use of one of your previously impaired senses makes you appreciate your body and what it can do a little bit more.
Hearing loss is something that creeps up on you, in some cases taking up to ten years to be identified. It makes me think of all the things I missed out on because of vanity —conversation, nature, music, my children’s laughter.
I’m aware that although my hearing aid has given me back so much, my hearing impairment is not cured (although hearing aids stimulate the damaged part of the auditory system and keep the process of hearing active). It’s possible that my left ear will someday be affected, but at least I know if that happens, I have a solution.
The only problem? I still can’t hear the baby crying at night because I don’t wear my hearing aid while I sleep. But that’s one thing I can learn to live with…
SPECSAVERS Hearing Centres are managed by a qualified audiologist and highly trained staff. All Specsavers digital hearing aids are sold as part of a complete hearing package. Packages start at €750, which includes two hearing aids for the price of one, and four years’ worth of batteries plus all your visits. See specsavers.ie/hearing to book a free hearing test