I recently had the opportunity to speak as part of a training module on accessibility to the front of house staff at Lincoln Center’s David Geffen Hall and Alice Tully Hall. It is wonderful when influential cultural institutions take a leadership role in promoting the importance of accessibility to their employees. I was pleased to be a part of the presentation, and to highlight hearing loss as an accessibility issue for the ushers.
I share the text of my remarks below.
Traveling when you have hearing loss can be challenging, but that’s no reason to miss out on discovering new locales. Follow these tips to have a safe and rewarding adventure.
What is that noise?” my son asked me one lazy afternoon this summer. “I don’t hear anything,” I replied. “It sounds like someone is coming up our driveway. The motor is revving. Can’t you hear it?” he practically shouts in an increasingly worried voice. He was nervous that danger was approaching. I didn’t hear a thing.
When my two hearing aids died on a recent trip overseas, I was plunged into silence. For several years, I have worn hearing aids 24/7 so I was not prepared for the sudden absence of external sound or for the ringing from inside my head that overtook the quiet, a cacophony of unwanted noise and disruption.
I had forgotten how the external world would start to recede as I became lost in my own internal musings. How I would begin to feel disoriented, confused, and alone. Since my hearing loss is progressive and I have worn hearing aids for the better part of 20 years, I realized this was probably the deafest I had ever been. And it was to stay this way for the better part of two weeks. Despair momentarily took hold.
I love my hearing aids. I wear them every morning, afternoon and evening. Even overnight since they are extended wear. They help me hear the sounds around me, keeping me safe and allowing me to communicate with the people I love.
But what happens when your hearing aids catastrophically fail — on an overseas trip thousands of miles from home and your audiologist? You cry, you yell, you suffer and then you get on with it — turning to alternative forms of assistive listening technology. It was quite a learning experience.
