Author Archives: Thelma

What I know about being almost deaf

My mother has profound hearing loss that is a consequence of her Second World War service. She has no hearing at all in her left ear and less than 10% remaining in her right, mostly in lower registers. It’s only in the last 20 years that she was able to get a hearing aid that worked for her; without the aid, she hears nothing at all.

When I took my mother for a COVID-19 vaccination last year, everyone was masked, of course. It was a bit noisy in the vaccination room, and there were a lot of questions for my mother to answer. My mother has decades of experience reading lips, but that certainly wasn’t possible on vaccination day. The nurse would ask my mother something, and my mother, not able to hear her, would look at me. At first, I repeated the question to my mother, who has no problem hearing my voice even when I’m wearing a mask, but after a few questions, we settled into me just answering the questions directly, which the nurse and I both knew wasn’t really fair to my mother, but was going to be quickest route to getting the whole thing over, expediency over independence.

When we were done with the questions, and as she was preparing my mother’s arm with an alcohol swab, the nurse asked me what she was doing wrong, how I was able to communicate when she couldn’t. Surprisingly, I’ve never before been asked that simple question: how can I help your mother hear me? I suggested she try to speak in a lower register, which she did, and my mother could suddenly hear her. The nurse seemed surprised and pleased to learn this.

The nurse didn’t have a particularly high-pitched voice, but she was doing what most people do when someone obviously can’t hear them: she spoke very loudly. That might work with someone who doesn’t wear a hearing aid, but it usually just distorts the voice for someone with a hearing aid. And yelling will always feel sort of stressful to the listener as it is, of course, SOMEONE YELLING AT YOU!

Speaking in a lower register, slowly and clearly, can often work well with someone who is hard of hearing. Slow down a bit. Separate your words, try not to slur them together. I have always had a deeper voice, and I’m sure it’s because of trying to make my mother understand what I’m saying for my entire life.

Using a digital hearing aid has been so important to my mother’s wellbeing. The old, larger analog ones just didn’t work for her. She has had four different Phonak aids in the past 15 years, and each one has been a bit better than the last.

My mother received a new hearing aid a few months ago, and it is actually a big improvement on the one she got in 2018. Now she can even hear our cats meowing, which is a bit of a mixed blessing! The aid also came with a small wireless microphone that someone can wear while talking to her that transmits the speaker’s voice directly to the aid. We tried the microphone in the car and for the first time in my driving life, my mother didn’t have to ask me to repeat things. When I spoke, she would turn to look at me out of habit, but actually didn’t need to as she could hear me perfectly!

Many hearing aids now use a small rubber dome as the earpiece, but my mother found that when she ate or talked, those earpieces would pop out, which was annoying. A custom moulded ear piece was created that fits into her ear canal, and now the earpiece stays in very well. It was an option I had to ask the hearing aid folks for, surprisingly, so if you are having the same problem, see if they can make you a custom piece.

There are tons of devices available to help the hard of hearing, and there will be more as those of my generation, the first to listen to portable audio devices too loudly for too long, get older and harder of hearing. The most helpful assistive devices in our house are amplified telephones, and she likes the models from Clarity, which are really LOUD.

We also have a system from Silent Call that sets off a flashing strobe light when the telephone rings, someone presses my mother’s door bell, or when a connected smoke detector is triggered (my mother can’t hear smoke detectors, which has made for some scary moments in the kitchen). There is also the option of attaching a bed shaker to the Silent Call system to wake her at night when these events happen.

My mother’s hearing aid has a tiny wax guard on the earpiece to prevent ear wax from getting into the aid, but sometimes wax can even get past that, stopping all sound, and it is nearly impossible to clean out manually, so we would have to take the aid back to the clinic. It seemed a hearing aid blockage would tend to occur on a Friday afternoon immediately after the hearing aid clinic would shut for an extended long weekend, so a home solution was needed! I found a product called MyVac, which is a small homemade-looking vacuum similar to what they use at hearing aid clinics. It has saved our sanity more than once, and I can’t recommend it enough.

I keep putting off having a baseline hearing test, but I really should get that done. I’m pretty diligent with hearing protection when using power tools, even for a quick cut on a mitre saw, but I know some loss is probably inevitable.

I’ve watched my mother navigate the world with a hidden disability, and it’s been challenging for her. The vast majority of people are kind and patient, especially now that she is 100, but when she was younger, people would forget themselves and let out frustrated sighs when she couldn’t understand what they were saying. My mother was often embarrassed to have to ask people to repeat things, or to misunderstand and respond inappropriately. Long conversations with people she didn’t know well were tiring as she was trying to translate what they were saying while trying to keep up, decoding sentences that didn’t make sense. She would usually do very well, and she is an upbeat kind of person, but sometimes the reactions of others would get her down.

Speak low and slow. Be kind. Repeat.

Kat Edmonson

I was listening to KJazz 88.1, a jazz and blues station broadcasting from California State University Long Beach, a couple of weeks ago and heard a great upbeat version All I Do Is Dream Of You. At first I thought it was Blossom Dearie, but turns out it’s a fantastic young woman named Kat Edmonson. Originally from Texas, she calls her style of music vintage pop. I hear touches of her fellow Texan Nanci Griffith and a little Doris Day in her voice, but her sound is unique and difficult to categorize.

She covers lots of jazz classics and some pop songs too, including a gentle rendering of The Cardigan’s Lovefool. Edmonson’s also a solid songwriter, and her most recent single, If You’re Scared (Call On Me), was commissioned for the COVID-19 Song Project on NPR’s Morning Edition, and has been floating through my head most days, especially when we had a few scary moments this week. It seems like a song that has always existed, a beautifully crafted perfect thing.

Edmonson was half way through a tour last year that was cancelled when COVID-19 struck, so she has been streaming live concerts from her New York living room most Sunday evenings at 7:00 EDT. Pay what you will to join the party, and I’ll be there on YouTube.

April 30

20 years ago tonight I was spending my last evening at 257 Pacific Avenue in the High Park area of Toronto. I had quit my job of seven years at the Daily Bread Food Bank and was heading to PEI with my partner (now husband), Steven. We had been together for 18 months. Soon into our relationship we talked about moving out of Toronto, probably somewhere in rural Ontario, but we changed course after a trip to PEI in August, 2000.

Being the only child of older parents (both turned 79 in 2001, my father on that April 30th), I felt a great pull to return to PEI and help them. My father was in the beginning stages of what turned into dementia, and my mother was taking on more and more responsibility, but finding it a challenge, though she was and is remarkable for her age. I was 34 and had been away from PEI for 17 years, but it was time to go home. Steven was game, so that was that.

We gave away tons of stuff before we moved, much of it to a centre in the east end of Toronto who helped people transition from homeless shelters to apartments. Friends took bits and pieces, then the movers came on April 29 and gathered up what was left. I arranged with the woman who was taking over the apartment for her to move her stuff in on April 30, as long as we could sleep there (on the floor, we were so youngish!) that night in the bedroom with our two cats, Emma and Digby.

I left the apartment in the afternoon while the new gal moved her stuff in, and went to say goodbye to friends. When I returned, the cats were freaked out by being locked in the bedroom, so we had a tense, meowy evening. I tried to get some sleep as I was going to drive us straight through to PEI (Steven has never driven). Steven was out with some pals for a goodbye dinner and he got back rather late.

After a little bit of uncomfortable dozing, we got up on May 1 at 4 a.m., shoved the cats into a carrier in the back of my red VW Golf, pointed the car east, and drove away. If you haven’t driven 1,700 km in one day with 2 yowling cats, you are missing the trip of a lifetime. By the time we reached Quebec City in the afternoon, the cats had collapsed into eternal despair and mercifully slept for a bit.

We arrived in Foxley River around 12:30 a.m. May 2, and collapsed at our family cottage where we would live that summer. My mother had left supper in the fridge, but for possibly the first and last time in my life, I was too tired to eat. Our neighbour called us at 8 a.m. the next morning to ask if we had seen their dog, and so it began on PEI, just as if I had never left.

Who wants to go for a drive? Emma giving me a warning look, while Digby remains in a coma. Gotta love the 2001 lo-fi digital camera look!

Moroccan Harira Soup

My go-to soup for forever has been a spinach and chickpea soup from one of Bonnie Stern’s HeartSmart cookbooks. It is very simple and quick to make with pantry items. It is what I fall back on when I don’t know what else to make for lunch.

Jane Jeffes’ beautiful Moroccan harira soup could just knock the Stern soup out of first place, though. I made it today and it was delicious, simple and uses things I always have on hand (I don’t always have fresh cilantro, but almost always have parsley either fresh in the garden or in the freezer). Most soups and stews benefit from sitting for a day and letting all the flavours mingle, but this was super soup right off the bat. It should be unbelievable tomorrow. Sorry, chickpea and spinach, you had a good run, but we are all about the warming spices now!

Oh brother

One of our chickens, Rosie, just swallowed a dead mouse whole. Apparently this is normal, but as its my first time seeing this, it also feels like the end times are nigh. Rosie had a terrible encounter with a rooster before she arrived here in January, so she looks like a Frankenchicken, with a patch around her head that is just bare skin. She’s an oddball, runs everywhere and annoys the other hens, but is very affectionate, except when doing pest control, and then she’s a killer. Whatever Rosie wants, Rosie gets, or else!

Helen

Reading the sad news of Helen McCrory’s death immediately reminded me of seeing her in the title role of Medea at a National Theatre Live broadcast at the Charlottetown cinema in 2014. Her performance was completely riveting and I felt exhausted after watching the play; I can only imagine how powerful it would have been to see it in person.

Other than her turn as Cherie Blair in two films, I wasn’t really familiar with her other roles, but her Medea remains a highlight in almost-live theatre. We have subscribed to the National Theatre at Home service and Medea is one of the offerings, so it is time to watch it again. I hope you find your ghost light, Helen, and shine on forever.

Funize

Had an email from Google feedburner (or FeedBurner, as it once was) that outlined their plans to do something or other that won’t make any difference to me as I had forgotten I had used it for anything or that it still existed. They encouraged me to check out my feeds, and I found feeds for two blogs I had set up for others a decade ago, still ready and able to burn if they hadn’t been abandoned.

I was tickled to find that, in this mostly forgotten corner of the online world, someone is having mucho fun with tabs.

Troubleshootize
What web developers do when they know there are no ize watching them!