Showing posts with label deaf history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deaf history. Show all posts

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Impaired?! (ARRGGHH!!)



Last night, my brother made the grievous error of calling me hearing-impaired. I didn't mean to jump down his throat, but I hate that term. I just HATE it. I don't feel "impaired" in any way. In fact I am healthier than he is. I can't hear well, but there are so many other things I CAN do. Many things I do better than hearing people. For example, I have a super-duper sense of smell. Also, some of my friends have pointed out that I'm more observant of visual details than the average person. I feel most deaf people learn to compensate for their hearing losses, and live relatively normal lives. I believe I have had a really GOOD life compared to most.

I am not magnificently talented, but I have a personality and interests outside my hearing loss. I'm an avid reader. I know a bit about butterflies and gardening. I love opera-- what little I hear of it-- but I love the stage and sets and costumes. I have raised three children, manage a home, dabble in ethnic cooking, and I've recently become a vegetarian. So I've been experimenting with vegetarian dishes lately. I am taking American Sign Language, learning how to belly-dance and how to play a West African drum called the djembe. I'm also in the process of redecorating my home since my youngest is going to move out soon. I'm planning two trips out of the country in the coming year too. That's why this blog is called LIFE and deaf. Deaf and hard-of-hearing people do all the same things everyone else does. We're not all about deafness. If you are deaf or hard-of-hearing, I'd love to hear what you're doing, what your hobbies are, and your talents. Please- drop a line. I want all those hearing people out there to stop thinking of us as being "impaired."



Today, and for the next few Sundays, I plan to dedicate my blogs to outstanding deaf and hard-of-hearing people who have achieved unusual success above and beyond the norm. Deaf heroes. My first choice is William "Dummy Hoy." ("Dummy is NOT a nice word to call the deaf today, but William Hoy was born in the 1860's when the word 'dumb' meant 'mute', not stupid. "Dumb" has since morphed into a more negative, ugly connotation for the deaf, and you could get punched in the nose for calling a deaf person that today.) William Hoy was the first deaf major league baseball player. Not only was he a great baseball player, but he also helped his team by inventing "secret baseball hand signals" still in use today. Many deaf people are very athletic and signing can be put to good use in a lot of sports! Many deep sea divers use it, for example. To read more about William Hoy go here William Hoy.


Friday, August 24, 2007

Midieval Deaf



The Medieval Festival.


Ever since I went to the Medieval Festival last Saturday I have been thinking about how difficult it would have been to interact with anyone in a busy village without hearing aids. I'm not sure what social convention required of women other than domestic chores and child bearing. Loud community gatherings at a faire with the neighbors would have been challenging. Even today, with hearing aids, I tend to avoid busy activities that require talking to lots of people.

Of the events I attended last Saturday, the play was the most difficult to follow because the actors all wore wooden masks over their faces making it impossible to see their mouths move. All the entertainment took place outside, so no walls offered acoustical sound enhancement. Magic, musical and jousting performances were delivered without the benefit of microphone equipment or sound systems. Many of the males wore beards obsuring their mouths-- a problem for those of us who read lips. I couldn't hear or understand anything-- EVEN WITH HEARING AIDS. I had to ask my family constantly what was going on. During a musical performance the musicians invited the crowd to sit closer, so I went. I enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere of sitting near the musicians. I could hear the music better, especially the drum and bagpipes; And being closer I could read their lips while they sang. But it turned out the words to their songs were in Gaelic, so it didn't much matter. Then a story-teller told a tale in English about a stolen pork chop and some monks, and a miracle performed by the Virgin Mary. I heard maybe 1/3 of it with my hearing aids, and realized I would have been deaf to it all without. A magician performed some impressive trickery with scarves and rings, then we all went to the Inn for potage and mead-- the highlight of my visit back in time.


I have wondered how common hearing loss was in 1376. I've read the average lifespan during medieval times was about age thirty. Many of us who are late-deafened may not have survived the diseases or conditions that deafened us if we had been alive in the middle-ages. For example, my hearing loss was theoretically caused when the measles damaged my cochleas as a little girl, which supposedly started an early progressive hearing loss. Without the benefit of aspirin to bring my high temperature down, would I have died? Statistically, one in three people over age sixty-five develops hearing loss today, but if so few people lived to age sixty-five in the 1300s, I wonder how many people developed the relatively common hearing loss associated with aging? I don't know the answer to this question, but I am beginning to speculate that maybe hearing loss was rare. I just don't know.


Near-sightedness, on the other hand, is common in young people today, since the average onset is about age ten. I assume many people would have been near-sighted during the middle-ages too. I cannot imagine my life without glasses! They are so much better at correcting vision than hearing aids are at correcting hearing. Medieval women spent hours each day laboring over needle work. I would choose glasses over hearing aids if I could pick only one, as I feel the ability to see would have been more necessary for survival. With both a seeing and hearing problem, I don't know how effective or useful I could have been.

Yikes--it's a scary thought! No wonder they drank so much mead and ale!