Category: Meniere’s

There’s a Goldfish in Mine!

Published on by hearingelmo5 Comments
Half empty, or half full? Well MINE has a goldfish in it.
Half empty, or half full? Well MINE has a goldfish in it.

I was in line at my local grocery store recently and overheard two women talking behind me. They were there to purchase their lunch evidently as they had salads and drinks only. Normally, I let people with just a few items go in front of me. For once, however, I was actually only there to pick up a couple of things I had forgotten in a previous trip. Besides… I was having too much fun eavesdropping.

Evidently one of the women had recently been dumped. Her friend and co-worker was trying to give her a pep talk using the old analogy of a “glass half full or glass half empty”. I continued to listen in, partly because I was thrilled I could do so <BIG GRIN> but also because I was really fascinated by the arguments she put forth about an issue that to her, was black and white. It was either a great thing you got dumped, or a really awful thing.

Lines were moving pretty quickly, so before I knew it I was headed out the door with my bag and faithful hound dog in heel. I continued to think about the analogy. The original intent was meant to convey, “Are you a pessimist or an optimist?” We all have relatively fixed personalities, but they can be adjusted. Cognitive behavioral psychology capitalizes on that truth to help people change negative thoughts and behaviors.

I really believe most of us do not respond to everything in a “half full” or “half empty” way, however. The more I thought about my own responses to life as it happens, I realized it certainly isn’t a “half full” or “half empty” option for me at least. My glass has a goldfish in it.

My Goldfish

I think folks who live with disability or chronic illness, cannot react to life in a concrete, optimistic or pessimistic way. For me, hearing again with a cochlear implant and navigating life with a balance disorder means that I react to life in a different way just because those two things are a part of who I am. I don’t just have a glass of water. Mine has a goldfish in it. I’ve learned how to take care of my goldfish. I wouldn’t be who I am without my goldfish.

I have some friends in a Meniere’s disease support group who have said that because their “glass is half full” (or half empty depending on their personality), things normal people deal with are just different for them. If they have a headache, are diagnosed with cancer, or lose someone close to them it is compounded by the fact they also live with an invisible or chronic illness. I get where they are coming from and understand what they are trying to say. They believe that experiencing normal life things (diagnosis, loss, etc) are different for them because they do so from a body that is already dealing with something else.

We all know each other pretty well in this group so when I bring psychology into it, they all roll their eyes at me. I truly believe that living with a chronic illness is all about perspective – but not in a “half full” or “half empty” kind of way. When I mentor someone, I try to help them get to a point of acceptance as soon as possible. Acceptance is not an attitude of “I give up. I’m not fighting anymore”. It is a recognition of the “new you” and learning to understand your new normal. That “normal” may even change if you have an illness that fluctuates or is a degenerative disease. For me, it was important to acknowledge this goldfish. I can’t change it and I don’t get a new glass. This is me… and I have a goldfish.

Just accepting that, has allowed me to be the best ME I can be. Psychologist Jennifer Kunst said, “The good news is that when relative changes can be made in one‘s basic approach to life, it makes a big difference. A modest change in your filter doesn’t change who you are at the fiber of your being. It helps you become a better version of yourself” (Kunst, 2012, para. 4).

For me, the hardest thing wasn’t that goldfish or learning how to take care of it. The tough thing was being around a whole lot of other people with only water in their glass.

“Sure, I’ll meet you up in the classroom, but I’m taking the elevator at the end of the hallway. See you in a few…”

“The dishwasher is running so I need you to come in here if you are going to ask me questions.”

“I hate to interrupt you, but I need to go up these stairs and I have to actually concentrate. Hold that thought…”

Family, friends at church, co-workers, and neighbors, are so accustomed to my goldfish they don’t really even see it anymore sloshing around in my glass. No one knows me better than my husband, Terry, I suppose. Yet, I even have to remind him that although I can talk to him in a restaurant that is almost empty without looking at him, I really need him to put his coffee cup down if the restaurant is full so that I can read his lips. It is my responsibility to feed my goldfish. Not his. I may have explained to him twenty different times that there are atmospheres I will hear “near normal”, and environments in which I’ll need his lips plastered to my forward microphone. However, it is my responsibility to communicate this to him.

We have very narrow staircases at home. On “good” days, I can jog up and down the stairs. Terry isn’t surprised anymore if I ask him to carry the laundry downstairs before he leaves, when I may have been “jogging” earlier. He isn’t shocked if I tell him to “go on up” at the end of the night, knowing I’m going to need to go up on all fours and take the time to do so. He knows I will communicate what I need. This goldfish is mine.

There is a terrific list of “acceptance rules” that the University of Washington put out. You can access it here. Two of my favorite “acceptance of the goldfish” quotes are:

Do not make people feel sorry for you or pity you. Get people to view you as an able person who is capable of anything within your reach if the doors of opportunity are open. (graduate student with a hearing impairment)

We should focus on the ABILITY in disability more than the DIS. If we can do that, then we are more apt to succeed. Also, know your limits. If you don’t know what you can or can’t do, how do you expect other people to know? Plan for success by using more of the cans than the can’ts. (college student with mobility impairments)

(University of Washington, 2013)

Don’t be aggravated about the goldfish. Honestly? Everyone has something in their glass besides water. If we were all just glasses of water, we’d all look alike. We are unique individuals. We all have something else in our glass. My opinion is that we accept that. I’m not this person that has a goldfish temporarily. The goldfish isn’t visiting and it isn’t something I can scoop out. This glass with a goldfish IS me. And I’m OK with that. I love what Karen Hall, Ph.D., said in her article “Radical Acceptance”. She said, “Radical acceptance is about accepting of life on life’s terms and not resisting what you cannot or choose not to change. Radical Acceptance is about saying yes to life, just as it is” (Hall, 2012, para. 1).

Denise Portis

© 2013 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Hall, K. (2012). Radical Acceptance. Psychology Today. Retrieved June 12, 2013, from http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/headshrinkers-guide-the-galaxy/201203/is-your-glass-half-empty-or-half-full

Kunst, J. (2013). Is your glass half empty, or half full? Psychology Today. Retrieved June 12, 2013, from http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/pieces-mind/201207/radical-acceptance

University of Washington (2013). Mentor tip: Acceptance of disability. Retrieved on June 12, 2013, from http://www.washington.edu/doit/Mentor/mt_acceptance.html

 

Square Plates

Published on by hearingelmo2 Comments
Exactly what I want at Target!
Exactly what I want at Target!

Square plates. I WANT THEM.

Why are plates ROUND after all? Squares have such nice neat corners. It isn’t as if round plates hold more! Round plates are not any better at preventing food from escaping if you are an – erm – especially aggressive eater. Or, perhaps TWO-years-old!

I really want square plates. They are different. They accomplish the same purpose. Am I rebel? No, no… you see, my friends?

I’m a SQUARE. That’s right, you heard it first here at Hearing Elmo. (smile)

We May be the Same – But We’re NOT

I have met a lot of people with hearing loss and cochlear implants. We may all have hearing loss, but we are not the same. That is why our hearing aids and cochlear implants are programmed especially for our hearing health profile.

I have met many with Meniere’s disease. I may have the same diagnosis as you do of Meniere’s disease. That does not mean that we share the same triggers. It does not mean that what works to alleviate the severity of symptoms for YOU, will work the same for me.

Unfortunately, even though we may belong to the same community of people – those who live with some sort of invisible or chronic illness, those who are differently-abled, we forget that we are individuals. What works for one will not work as well for another.

There are three cochlear implant manufacturers. I love my cochlear implant. Neither I, nor my audiologist at Johns Hopkins, ever thought I would be hearing this well. My cochlear implant is not “better” than someone who chose another manufacturer, however. Consumers – the patients – have a responsibility to thoroughly investigate all the details about all of the brands available. We pick what we believe will work best for US.

Round plates and square plates do the same thing. They hold food. But some of us like round plates – and some of us are SQUARES.

It always grieves me when I see posts at various online support groups where one member bashes the ideas of another. Or perhaps they are insistent that everyone try their extremely low-salt diet (which happened on a Meniere’s group of which I am a member). It didn’t matter that several of us explained we had tried low sodium a number of times and had found it made little difference.

We need to respect other people’s choice to use round plates – or square ones. In the hearing loss community, our mantra should be “whatever works”. In groups that formed to support those living with Meniere’s disease, we should work on actually BEING supportive. If WE aren’t supportive of each other, how can we ever expect the community at large to be?

Are you a member of a support group for your own illness or disability? Encourage others to be supportive and open to new ideas. Everyone just might learn something! Regardless, we need the non-judgmental atmosphere of a friendly, empathetic community. Respect each other. Before you know it you just might start seeing :

by 10 Strawberry Street
by 10 Strawberry Street

… TRIANGLE dinner plates.

Denise Portis

© 2013 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

 

 

 

 

Hypochondriasis

Published on by hearingelmo6 Comments
Aren’t I brave to post my “just out of surgery and anesthesia” picture? I look “high”, don’t I? (GRIN)

Many folks might be surprised that hypchondriasis is an actual psychological diagnosis. Perhaps it is because we misuse the word hypochondriac a great deal! We tease each other, making a big deal about stating we “may be coming down with something“; or, perhaps you know someone who complains about “something” being wrong with them ALL THE TIME. Something always hurts, or they have aches and spasms and feel “poorly”. In writing this, I can think of one or two people I know personally who are like this. I guess since I’m from the South, I mentally categorize them as WHINERS… although that isn’t a very good psychological label.

Hypochondriasis is misused a great deal, however. A whiner is not necessarily a hypochondriac. The diagnostic features of hypochondriasis includes: 1) a fear of having a serious disease based on a misinterpretation of one or more bodily signs or symptoms, 2) an unwarranted fear or idea of having a disease that persists despite medical advice and test results to the contrary, and 3) a preoccupation that greatly influences or impairs other behavior and the ability to function (DSM-IV, p. 462).

So we all know a whiner… but they are not really a hypochondriac. Sure we use this to tease – or discuss someone negatively behind their back. This person is comfortable verbalizing how they really feel… to anyone who will listen! However, the reality is they do not have hypochondriasis.

Invisible Illnesses and unwanted labels

Yup. We’ve established we all know whiners. Some of us work with these folks. Some of us love these folks. Some of us (gulp) are these folks!

However, in recent months a common theme has come up in many of the conversations I’ve had with people who have contacted me through Hearing Elmo. It seems a good number of folks with invisible illness or disability are often accused of being hypochondriacs. Not simply because the word is misused either. People around them honestly believe it is “all in their heads”.

I posted the picture I did for this post because shortly after sharing this picture when I first had my cochlear implant surgery, an individual (whom shall remain unnamed – grin) told me in response to my “how I’m doing” email that they thought it was terrible I had this surgery – permanently changing the way I hear, all because I was pretending I had a hearing loss. You see? This person knew me growing up. They knew me when I could hear. Approximately 4 or 5 months before my CI surgery we talked on the phone. They didn’t know that:

I was using a captioned phone and was READING what they were saying.

The phone was on speaker and my husband was enunciating words I did not understand.

I tell people when they ask me what motivated me to get a cochlear implant was I was TIRED OF FAKING IT. I had reached an all-time low and struggled to communicate despite my numerous coping mechanisms and communication strategies that I had in place. I was exhausted. I dreamed of being able to communicate orally with fewer difficulties.

I didn’t sound deaf (not having been totally without sound long enough to really develop a “deaf accent”).

I was still teaching and working.

I can’t really describe for you how these comments from this person affected me. I was – in a word – devastated. I couldn’t wrap my mind around why someone would seriously believe someone would pretend to not be able to hear, fake their way through all the tests, and undergo surgery that would enable them to hear – but electronically, all for attention or for “show”.

Many invisible illnesses can be difficult to diagnosis. Some test results for diseases like Lymes, may actually come back with false results. Many pain disorders, including fibromyalgia, are difficult to diagnosis. There are still medical practitioners that believe this diagnosis is “a crock” and it can be difficult to find a doctor who takes your symptomology seriously. It doesn’t help that many women are prone to these types of illnesses or disorders, as women are more likely to be accused of being “drama queens”, worriers, and hypochondriacs. The DSM-IV points out that hypchondriasis is equally common in males and in females (p. 464).

What can YOU do?

The problem with invisible illness or disability is that they ARE invisible. You cannot see the problem. People with invisible illness or disability also start to hide what is going on with their own body. Like myself, I actually faked being able to hear better than I actually could. Some may answer “how are you?” with “fine, how are you” out of habit. However some may respond that way out of FEAR to disclose the truth. Many choose to not even tell loved ones how severe symptoms may be that day because they believe their family members are tired of hearing it.

I checked in with a friend this week to let her know I was thinking of and praying for her. She responded to “how is the pain today?” with “pain is a constant friend”. You may not be honest with how you are doing because you believe others are tired of hearing about your “bad days”. Many choose not to disclose how they REALLY are doing as they fear derisive comments, exasperation, or disdain from those around them.

Do you know someone with an invisible illness or disability? If you ask them how they are – and you REALLY care about them – be a “safe” person for them to be truthful with when they respond! Have you blown it and shown your exasperation before? Do better. It’s not like your poor response has to be your normal response. Are you married to, or do you love someone who lives with an invisible illness or disability? It can be hard; but, wouldn’t you want them to love you and encourage you if the “shoe had been on the other foot?” – rather YOUR foot?

What is the Cost?

I believe that the reason many invisible illnesses and disabilities also have a co-morbid diagnosis of depression and even suicidal ideation, is because those around them do not believe them. They live with constant negative feedback when they do open up and honestly share how they are doing with others. Your disbelief can cause them to isolate themselves – dropping out of life. Your misinformed comments could cause them to start internalizing their feelings, making it difficult for them to trust anyone. Don’t be an – erm – DONKEY. One of the best things you can do for someone who lives with invisible illness or disability 24/7 is to simply BELIEVE them.

After I found people I could trust with how things were REALLY going? I was able to actually deal with my bad days in a more proactive way. Just knowing that someone believed me – empowered me. I couldn’t hear. I staggered because my world really DOES revolve all the time. That belief enabled me to refocus my energy in discovering ways to COPE.

Will you be that person to someone this week? Can you listen without skepticism and provide that assurance?

Denise Portis

© 2012 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

American Psychiatric Association. (2000). Diagnostic and statistical
manual of mental disorders (4th ed., text rev.). Washington, DC: Author.

Invisible Illness Awareness Week

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This week marks a very special week for me. I have been a part of Invisible Illness Awareness week for a number of years now. Sept. 10-16 is Invisible Illness Awareness Week.

There are a number of terrific speakers at this year’s virtual conference. You can check out the schedule here:  CLICK

Hearing loss and Meniere’s disease are both invisible. I have struggled both successfully and unsuccessfully through the years in living with these. Those who do so live with a fair amount of frustration and stresses simply because what they deal with IS INVISIBLE. For me, one of the most frustrating things is that my symptoms may vary. To some, this makes me lack credibility at times. For example, I “hear again” with a cochlear implant and BTE hearing aid. I may hear you just fine in a quiet environment and one-on-one. However, if my tinnitus is roaring or we are in a noisy environment, my primary response may be “Huh?“.

I walk, jog, and can even RUN (believe it or not) on sunny days. However, the weather is a real trigger for my own Meniere’s disease. I may be out-walking my assistance dog one day, and the next have her close and wobble like an intoxicated person. For those who do not understand that symptoms may vary, and may fluctuate, it may seem as if I can’t make up my mind as to whether or not I live with a disability.

I have friends who have Fibromyalgia, Lymes, Multiple sclerosis, chronic fatigue syndrome, and other various illness and disabilities. They will tell you that it can be frustrating, even emotionally debilitating, to have folks in their lives choose to scorn, disbelieve, or ignore their own invisible illnesses.

It takes courageous people to live with invisible illness. I hope you will go to IIA (CLICK HERE) and learn more about how you can get involved in helping to raise awareness in your own community. You may not live with invisible illness yourself, but all of us who live with it will tell you that our friends and family that support us are just as influential as we are ourselves – if not more so!

Denise Portis

© 2012 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

They May Not Get It

Published on by hearingelmo7 Comments

(Hey… I’m not an artist! But have you ever felt this way?)

One of the questions I am asked the most by folks who contact Hearing Elmo, is “Why doesn’t my family accept and understand who I am NOW?”

Before I even begin writing, let me express my hope that many of you will respond and share as I am very aware I do not have all the answers.

Why It Hurts

1. It hurts because the transition from “normal” to where you are was painful.

The school of hard knocks is – well – hard. Acquired disabilities and invisible/chronic illness are not easy to get use to when they first change a person. The journey from diagnosis to acceptance is a hard one. It hopefully has made us “better” and not “bitter”. I can attest to feeling stronger, more confident, and much more in tune with who I really am post-disability. Some of us have progressive symptoms and illnesses. We may adjust, only to have to do so again in a year or so. This too can grow us. But honey? It isn’t easy.

However, BECAUSE it was hard, it is hurtful when folks who knew us WHEN (back before our diagnosis), don’t accept or try to understand who we are NOW. We are still the same people. Our personalities have not changed. Our strengths and weaknesses are all still present – although you may have developed some new strengths because of your life path. So it is difficult when family members may sometimes be the hardest to teach how to talk to us now that we have a hearing loss. Or perhaps you are frustrated because a family reunion at a theme park is not ideal for you because you cannot ride any of the rides. Maybe you are utilizing a wheelchair, walker, or cane. A picnic and hike may not be a good way for you and your siblings to catch up – even if it has been a year since you’ve seen each other.

It’s not like we want recognition for the pain we’ve experienced. We aren’t looking for a medal. However, seeing any eye rolls or hearing frustrated sighs serve only to remind us our family

STILL

DOESN’T

GET

IT.

2. You expect your family members to care enough to accept you.

It’s not wedding vows. “In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer…” But we have a reasonable expectation that our family members are going to love us and be there for us regardless. It doesn’t matter if we acquire a disability. We are still the same person. If Lymes disease has you aching and feverish a week out of every month, we expect compassion, not disdain. If CFS or MS has you weary, tired, and feeling as energetic as a centenarian, you expect understanding and maybe an offer to run an errand for you. If your eyesight is worsening due to various illness or disorders, you never expect frustrated outbursts when you explain you don’t have a ride to go to your nephew’s graduation.

But friends? Family members can need educating. Advocacy may begin at home. We wish it wasn’t necessary, but it may be very necessary. My kids grew up with me at best, hard-of-hearing. My husband, however, knew me before hearing loss. So I have to be willing to tell (nicely) him what works and what doesn’t. Don’t be surprised if it takes numerous lessons. Some heads are thicker than others.

What to Do

Talk to them. I’d elaborate, but honestly? You need to talk to them. Explain how you feel. Be willing to be vulnerable. Start with phrases that explain specifics and not general accusations. Example:

“When you sigh as I wobble into a shelf at the store it really hurts my feelings. I can’t help it when my world ‘twirls’. It’s hard enough to face the stares and hear the whispered remarks from strangers. I expect better from you. I expect your support.”

They May Never Get it

We can choose our friends, but we don’t choose our family. Blood is blood and it simply cannot be changed. However, you do not have to put up with people who ridicule you or try to injure you with words. You do not have to deliberately spend time with people who only make you feel worse. Sometimes? Sometimes those toxic people are family members. I hate it for you. I hate it for me. But it can be the painful truth.

Sometimes those friends that we choose? They become family. Maybe not by blood. Perhaps not by legal adoption. But folks who encourage us, lift us up, make us better people, understand, lend compassion and energy? They can become like family members. My heart’s desire is that you will find some folks like this if you haven’t already.

I welcome your thoughts on this. Knowing family members may grieve the person they once knew, or have trouble adjusting to the fact you are “differently abled” is important. Be patient. But also put healthy boundaries in place to keep unhealthy people from de-railing your progress with your own adjustments.

Denise Portis

© 2012 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

It’s Not Easy Being Green

Published on by hearingelmo5 Comments

I love Kermit. For the record, I loved Kermit before Miss Piggy loved Kermit. In the early 70’s, Kermit first poignantly croaked out that “it’s not easy being green”. Being green was something he could not help. It simply was.

This song has since been associated with people lamenting their own self-identity, yet coming to terms with “it being what it is”. By the end of the song, Kermit admits it’s OK to be green and that it is how he wants to be.

Am I OK Being This Way?

Something I have struggled with in acceptance of acquired disabilities is “the new me”. You see… I wasn’t born green. I can’t even say the transformation was similar to the beautiful miracle and mystery of a caterpillar changing into a butterfly.

And yet… it’s not like I asked to be late-deafened. It’s not like I asked to have a balance disorder like Meniere’s disease. But just like Kermit being green, it is what it is. There is no changing it.

So if this is me now, am I OK with it? Anyone with acquired disabilities ever struggle with that acquisition? If I asked for a show of hands, you’d first notice my own raised palm. I think you’d also notice a great number of hands. You aren’t alone.

Like many of you, I feel good about who I am much of the time. But I’d be lying if I said it’s always easy to be me. It’s not. So what to do?

Acceptance ≠ Resignation

I’ve never heard a person with acquired disability or chronic illness say, “This is easy”. It’s not. Yet do you know what I have discovered? I have this fuzzy, old memory of “life before disability” and IT STILL WASN’T EASY. My friends? Life is not easy. If you haven’t figured that out yet then you are still very young. Or, perhaps you are a frog.

I am discovering that acceptance of where I am (or even where I may end up), does not mean that I give up. Nor does it mean that I am resigned to an unhappy, unfulfilled life with no chance of ever giving back or having a purpose.

I get some “flack” with some of my readers about using the word “disability”. Rest assured, I welcome ALL opinions and discussion about the posts here at Hearing Elmo, as do the guest writers who participate. Some have suggested that using the term disability lowers one’s expectations and influences self-esteem. I understand the argument and point of view by those who believe this. I use the term because it is the terminology used by the ADA which ultimately protects my rights as a person with disability. It is about my freedom as a person who negotiates life a little differently. You may use disabled, differently-abled, special challenges, etc. In the end though it is green; though some may call it lime, olive, or chartreuse.

So today, August, 20, 2012, I am a person with disabilities. It’s not easy. But it isn’t impossible. Bottom line, because of who I am today, I compromise. I’m going to Hershey Park with a big group of couples from our church. I’m the self-designated pocket book holder. I won’t be riding any rides. I cannot. But I anticipate a day of fun and fellowship with other folks my age. I don’t choose not to go. For me, that would be giving up so it is not an option.

I don’t use the phone well, but I can use captioned phones, assistive technology, and my cochlear implant to make do. I use email a lot – and yes, FaceBook too. I walk like the world is in motion – especially on rainy days. Yes, yes, I know. The world IS in motion, but trust me! My earth’s rotation is faster than YOUR earth’s rotation. So I often walk with a cane. I have an assistance dog who counter-balances, and retrieves things I drop. I say, “Whoa!” a lot.

Don’t Pin a Super Hero Cape on Me!

Before you pin a super hero cape on me, please know that I don’t always have good days. I don’t always wake up and believe I can take on the world. I do not always look in the mirror and like what I see. There are times I worry about where I am in terms of what I can and cannot do. What is important, I believe, is what you do after having those very normal feelings. Worried? Totally normal. Depressed? This can be a very normal reaction. Pissed? Believe it not, being angry is a normal response to acquired disability. When you STAY worried, depressed, or pissed it becomes a problem. Don’t be afraid to talk to others. Perhaps you need to see a counselor. Maybe you need to do something just for YOU to work off some of that negative steam.

You will never hear me say it’s easy being green. It’s not. But acceptance of where we are allows us to then LIVE and even to give back – to be productive and have a life of purpose. Just like Kermit croaks, we may not be sparkly and flashy like others. Within each of us is the desire to discover and acknowledge that our being green – is OK. Perhaps even good.

I welcome your thoughts on this!

Denise Portis

© 2012 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

It’s Not Easy Being Green lyrics

It’s not that easy being green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves.
When I think it could be nicer
being red or yellow or gold
or something much more colorful like that.

It’s not that easy being green.
It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things.
And people tend to pass you over
’cause you’re not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water
or stars in the sky.

But green’s the color of Spring.
And green can be cool and friendly-like.
And green can be big
like an ocean
or important like a mountain
or tall like a tree.

When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why?
Wonder, I am green and it’ll do fine
it’s beautiful!
And I think it’s what I want to be.

Unexpected Perk, or Bother?

Published on by hearingelmo4 Comments

Several of the emails I receive through Hearing Elmo each week are questions about assistance dogs. This week is actually “Assistance Dog Awareness Week“, so I wanted to take a few minutes to talk about life with an Assistance Dog.

The first thing I always tell people who have questions is that if you are not prepared for the fact that an assistance dog will draw attention to you, then PREPARE YOURSELF. More importantly? If you are not comfortable with the attention, then an assistance dog is not for you.

Because I have a hearing loss and because I don’t hear well in stores or crowded places, I am oblivious to all the comments my family members DO hear. “Look at the dog!” “Oh look, a working dog!” “Why is that dog in here?” “Mom, why does that lady have a dog in here and why is it wearing a saddle?”

Assistance dogs lend independence to those who chose to mitigate their disability or illness with these special canines. I never worry about missing a phone call. I can do laundry without assistance from a human family member. I no longer burn supper. I always know when someone is at the door. I can shop and go out in public and never worry about not being able to bend and pick something up – important as I constantly drop things.

Some things you may not know that are actually perks of having an assistance dog?

1. Pre-Chloe, a routine doctor’s visit would result in the 3rd degree about why I always have so many bruises. It can be tiresome to field questions about whether or not I’m in an abusive relationship, when I simply fall or run into things a great deal because of Meniere’s disease. Now, Chloe lends legitimacy to those bruises. She reminds doctors why I have bruises because folks don’t go to the doctor with a dog partner if they didn’t need the assistance.

2. I’m rarely bumped into or shoved out of the way now in public. When you don’t hear well in these venues, impatient shoppers who don’t give a “fig” about why you are standing looking at dancing electronic flowers in the garden department, assume I’m being stubborn about moving to let them by. Now they see Chloe and if she doesn’t notice them and cue me, they carefully maneuver around me.

3. I never receive comments like “It’s a little early to be drinking isn’t it?” or “You should be ashamed of yourself” when I’m seen weaving a bit on rainy weather days (comments that have really been made). In the past, if I slammed into an end cap in a store, those around me assumed I was high or drunk. Now people see Chloe and think OR SAY, “Gee, it’s great she has that dog to help her”.

4. I’ve grabbed onto a fellow client’s scooter before (sorry, John) when I almost fell down. He understood. However, when what you grab is a nearby shopping cart, others aren’t as understanding. I once had a grandmotherly person stick her finger in my face and sternly say, “Let… GO”. I mumbled an apology and went my way. Now that I have Chloe, the most anyone will say in a “near swoon” moment is “Are you OK?”

Assistance dogs help people with hearing loss, mobility issues, seizure alert, PTSD, diabetes/blood sugar alerts, vision loss, balance problems, fine motor skill difficulties, and much more. I hope the next time you see someone with an assistance dog in public that you maybe take a minute and tell them that you think their independence with their canine is a great testament to courageous people. Don’t pet the dog or distract it though (grin).

Denise Portis

© 2012 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Round and Round She Goes, Where She Stops…

Published on by hearingelmo6 Comments

… is USUALLY on her nose.

If you live with invisible disabilities or chronic illness, have you ever stopped and tried to make sense of it all? More often should I choose to do this, I find it simply doesn’t make sense. What can be more difficult, however, is trying to help someone ELSE understand what it is like to be a little “different”.

The words disability is a like a nasty tasting curse word to many. Personally? I’m not afraid of the word because it does currently define my rights under the ADA – something I wish wasn’t necessary but is in order to make sure that those who navigate life differently have the same access and rights as everyone else. I’m not here to today to discuss the WORD, however. I am here to bellyache.

A friend of mine posted a link to a terrific article currently taking up space at Invisible Illness Awareness Week. It detailed why it is important to just LISTEN sometimes. You can access the article HERE.

I belong to a number of online support groups for people with Meniere’s disease. I’ve never met anyone with symptoms exactly like mine. As a matter of fact, Meniere’s disease often frustrates perplexed physicians who are trying to help treat the disease. However, because there is no cure, one can only learn to manage and treat the symptoms. What may help one person, does not help another at all.

My assistance dog, Chloe, from Fidos For Freedom Inc., is a big blessing. Originally trained to be a hearing dog, she still performs all her hearing alerts with finesse and enthusiasm. As a matter of fact, 7 AM came WAY to early yesterday morning when my alarm went off. I tried to tell her to go back to bed and stop kissing my hand, elbow, and right ear. My husband rolled over and said, “Hello? Your alarm is going off!” Oh.

But Chloe actually helps me with far more balance related tasks each day than she does hearing alerts. I tried to “track it” one day and she performed 17 hearing alerts (alarm, kitchen timer, automatic retrieve of items I’d dropped and hadn’t heard, door knock, and cell phone ringing) and over 40 “other” tasks. (I quit counting after 40). These usually consist of directed retrieves. I drop things. I drop things a lot. Picking them up myself takes time as a bend all the way to the floor often precedes a fall. To avoid that, I simply let her get them for me. She also acts as a steady brace when I stand, sit, or go up/down stairs. She also acts as a brace if I begin to weave in a large cavernous place. The picture I chose for this post reminds me how bad my visual field was on Saturday. I ran into the mall with my husband to pick up something at a favorite store. When sound echoes, I tilt. (Picture Denise, aka Leaning Tower of Portis). Chloe has a large handle on the top of her vest that works perfectly. On my lower left is a solid helper that keeps my world from being quite so off center. I’ve been in JCPenney before and let go of her handle to look at some clothing on a sales rack. I immediately felt “swishy” because of the tall ceilings and lights. I grabbed out to keep from falling and clutched the breast of a nearby mannequin. I don’t make these things up. Thank goodness she/it wasn’t real, right?

Yet there are things Chloe cannot help me with, too. Here are some things about Meniere’s disease that surprise some folks:

1. Scrolling words or moving backgrounds on PowerPoints make me sick.

Our church places the words to songs and notes for the message on the walls in the sanctuary. This is very helpful for anyone with hearing problems… or ADHD (smile). However, sometimes there are moving points of light or star bursts that move behind the words or notes. I’m fine as long as I’M SITTING.

2. I have to sit to brush my teeth.

Yeah. I know, I know! Strange! But there is something about moving a toothbrush around in my mouth while in a standing position. I have to sit, and there are days I actually have to close my eyes on top of that!

3. Stepping down can be problematic.

This one really bugs me. On sunny days (weather is a trigger for me), I love to hike and climb around. I love rocks. Big rocks. I love heights (believe it or not). However, stepping down more than 6 inches is enough change in my altitude that I black out. It may only be for a few seconds, but if both feet are not on the ground, I’ll be picking blades of grass out of my nose hair. Chloe has learned that a “Whoa!” from me means

Move.

NOW.

4. Must… AVOID… looking… at ROTATING things (gasp)

Ceiling fans are not my friend. Neither are signs hung from ceilings when the air conditioner vents blow on them to make them twirl. For me this means heave, deep breath, heave again. I’m serious. 🙂

5. I shower while looking at my feet.

I didn’t realize how difficult it can be to get clean when you can’t look up at the shower head. Raise your eyes to reach up for shampoo or your razor? Honey? Do you want to get up close and personal to the DRAIN? Heaven help the family member who moves my shampoo or washrag from their designated place. I count on where they are so that I can shower safely… while looking at my chipped toenail polish.

6. Watching the effect of the wind can topple me too!

We’ve had some terrific storms lately. Since it has brought much needed rain, I’ve been loathe to complain. I love standing on the deck and watching the wind blowing the towering pines behind our home. Clarification: I like hanging on to the rail of our deck and watching the wind blow the towering pine trees behind our home.

7. Gingery’s Baby Pegasus can be mesmerizing to my detriment.

My daughter’s 12 pound hairless Chinese Crested likes to spin. For fun. Imagine that. It is quite captivating, but it only means CAPSIZING for me. “Look away, Denise, Look AWAY!”

8. I fuss at my son’s stomach.

My son… you know the one who was 7 weeks premature? He is 6 foot 3 inches tall. He’s a terrific kid. However, even at 21-years-old, he still needs the occasional “mama sermon”. I dare not look up, Up, UP into his eyes. One isn’t able to reiterate needed reminders when flat on the floor. Instead I point my finger and give his belly and chest “what for”. The kid laughs at me. LAUGHS. (sigh)

9. Glass elevators have speckled carpet.

I know this because I only see the carpet in glass elevators. Why not solids? Stripes? Only speckles. This confuses me.

10. I remind my doctor that I will NOT hold my breath while he’s listening to my ticker.

Because… well otherwise I’m waking up with nurses, hound dog, and doctor crowded around. (Why crowd someone who has swooned? Can I just ask that?)

Like many people who get up every morning and “manage” their symptoms, I hope perhaps I’ve helped you understand balance disorders a little better. Feel free to share your own “management techniques”.

Denise Portis

© 2012 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Another Look at Isolation

Published on by hearingelmo12 Comments

Hearing Elmo welcomes Melissa Sisco, from Alabama to our list of talented writers who have learned to “write from the heart”. Melissa is the mother of two young daughters. She was first diagnosed with Meniere’s Disease in 2007, and also has asthma/allergies, a heart condition, weak bones, endometriosis, and diabetes Type II. Melissa admitted that “Meniere’s Disease has been the single most challenging medical diagnosis I have experienced in my 32 years”.

I’m not really sure why I’m attempting to do this.  I’m not much of a writer; at least I haven’t been for a very long time. But writing is one thing that, luckily, I can still do.  I really connected to the last piece that Denise wrote because I am right there, right now. Alone and isolated.  I don’t go out much at all, especially by myself.

In brief summary, my name is Melissa, I am a late-deafened adult, 32 year old female, married for 9 years (to an amazingly understanding husband), mother of 2 beautiful girls, ages 3 and 5. I was first diagnosed with Meniere’s Disease in my left ear when my oldest was 4 months old. I woke up one morning and could not hear anything out of my left ear and I was so dizzy I couldn’t even sit up straight in bed. About two years ago I joined the ranks of the Bilateral, but am lucky to only have moderate hearing loss in my right ear.  I wear an obscenely expensive digital hearing aid in my left ear (sometimes) and I need one in my right ear, but just can’t afford it right now.  I am not Deaf enough to qualify to be a member of the Deaf community where I live, and I am apparently “wrong” for choosing a hearing aid. But I can’t hear enough to qualify for the Hearing World anymore either.  I feel lost in limbo. I simply belong nowhere.

Why It Can be Difficult

I used to enjoy simple things like shopping, (especially shoe shopping) but now I avoid shopping trips as they make me nervous and, frankly the last time I did go out, (to my favorite shoe store) I literally knocked over a little old lady who was standing directly behind me.  I didn’t know she was there, couldn’t hear her or sense her at all.  I backed up from a store display to get a better view and plowed that precious little woman straight into a mannequin.  I was so embarrassed, I apologized profusely as other patrons helped her up and glared at me like I was the devil incarnate.  I left the store and haven’t gone back since.

At work I hide in my cubby hole of an office (it’s actually the records closet and my office).  Once upon a time, I was a 911 dispatcher, and I was really good at it. I did that for nearly 8 years, before my hearing loss reached the point where I can no longer do that job safely.  I was lucky to not have been let go, and I am now relegated to some sort of mish/mash office manager and dispatch supervisor. I know I am unbelievably blessed just to have a job, but I avoid even my coworkers now because most of the time I have no idea what they are saying, so I just nod my head and try to wear my neutral “yes I understand” expression, which is a big fat lie.  I have a strong aversion to my work desk phone.  It’s set as loudly as possible, yet I still have to ask people to repeat.  (My employer is working on getting me a CapTel phone, but our system is slow as molasses). Sometimes, when I see a number from someone I know I have a particularly hard time understanding (ahem –soft spoken females like me), I just let it ring to voicemail. I have found I also do this at home, and on my cell phone.  Although to be fair, half the time I really can’t hear them ring, or –at home anyway- I hear it but can’t find where the “ring” is coming from.  (Usually I’m hoping it’s a real sound and not just a figment of my broken cochlear nerve as I frantically search room to room looking for my telltale “flashing strobe light” phone.)

Recently a group of female friends (ok coworkers and coworker’s wives – I don’t really have a lot of friends anymore) went out to dinner and a movie and actually invited me to go along.  I really wanted to go, I wanted to be with other people and I really wanted to see that movie!  But I remembered that previously, I had a difficult time asking for, receiving, and setting up the captioning device at that particular theater and I’m not going to pay $15.00 to see a movie I can’t “hear/read.” Keep in mind if you are new to the whole captioning thing, you can ask for it, but that doesn’t mean the minimum wage paid teenage employee has any idea what you’re talking about. I dreaded the embarrassment of going through the captioning device thing again, especially in front of others. Also the chosen restaurant was a loud, noisy Mexican joint with great food and a fun ambience, but a terrible place for even the highest quality hearing aid to make a difference. So I lied and said I had no one to watch my kids. Can you say Avoidance?

I rarely get invited anywhere nowadays and subsequently lost a number of “friendships” because of having to cancel last minute because of my lovely vertigo spells. Apparently, “Sorry I’m too busy hanging on to the floor for dear life and vomiting to go out tonight,” has a limit on the number of times it can be used as a forgivable excuse.

Trying to Find the Positive

There are good things about losing your hearing, really there are. If it’s really noisy and I’m trying to sleep (like my neighbor and his oh so noisy garage band at 10 pm, or the neighborhood dogs howling for no reason at all) I can sleep on my good ear so I can’t hear anything.  If I have a migraine the hearing loss is actually a relief.  I can sometimes pretend I didn’t hear something if it’s something I don’t want to talk about.  (I think my husband has figured that last one out, drat.)  When my daughter(s) start whining/throwing tantrums I can literally turn my deaf ear to it.  Although they have also figured that out too.  I really try to appreciate the few sounds I can still hear, now more than ever. I try to imprint these sounds upon my memory so that I never forget – the giggling laughter of my little girls, my husband whispering “I love you” in my good ear, the melody of morning songbirds, and the relaxing sound of ocean waves.

I can actually swim in real life, (well I could swim once anyway), but as for living the new life of a Deaf/ Hard of Hearing person I am barely hanging on to my flotation device.  Denise always manages to end her musings on a positive note, so I will try my best.

I hate feeling sorry for myself.  I hate being depressed.  I hate hating everything. I can’t stand people who constantly whine and throw pity parties for themselves. I certainly don’t want to BE one of them. I’ve always been of the mindset that if you fall, you pull yourself up by your bootstraps and keep going.

I know that I am lucky not to be dying from some terminal disease, I am just going deaf and I’m dizzy most of the time.  I know, rationally, that I just have to learn to adjust to my “new” normal. I just don’t happen to be particularly impressed with what my new normal is, or what it may be in the future.  So I’m angry sometimes.  Well, really more like awfully T’d off. And I am actually annoying myself with the unnecessary amount of negative energy that I am producing.

I try to remember that the good Lord doesn’t give us more than we can handle. But God apparently thinks I have the strength of Hercules or something, but I disagree.  Grrrr.  I get so mad at myself, at what is happening to me, and I’m mad at being mad.  I don’t like mad people!

I suddenly have a great amount of sympathy for that poor dog that continues to chase his own tail in circles.

I might be barely hanging on, and I can’t hear the people who may be shouting at me –trying to help me, but I’m not giving up either.  I’m pretty good at the doggie paddle, so I will keep on paddling, I just don’t really know where I will end up. I try to keep a sense of humor about all this when I can, although, sometimes others (fully hearing or truly Deaf) kind of miss the point.

I truly believe that where there is humor there is laughter and laughter spreads joy.  And one can still laugh even if you can’t hear yourself do so.

One of my favorite quotes is by Gustave Flaubert –

– “One can be the master of what one does, but never of what one feels.”

At this point in my journey, I know my future is up to me and my actions will determine what is next, but I just feel lost at sea- drifting somewhere, and I don’t even have any oars, or a decent GPS system to help me navigate.

Salud and good luck on wherever you are on your personal journey.

Melissa

© 2012 Hearing Elmo

A Special Kind of “Stupid”

Published on by hearingelmo7 Comments

 

On Monday evening, May 14th, David Walters of Bel Air, MD, pulled a fire alarm in  a crowded theater. He was issued a criminal summons the following day and faces a $5,000 fine and up to 5 years in jail. You can read about the story HERE. More on the story HERE.

It seems David was upset that the movie was open captioned for patrons who are deaf or hard-of-hearing. Specific movies (identified at the ticketing counter) allow people with hearing loss to enjoy newly released movies on the big screen. It allows equal access. Sure… we can purchase the movie later after it goes to DVD and watch it at home. But who wants to miss out on the buttery popcorn, movie candy, cherry Icee‘s and being with friends and family at the theater? Nothing beats the big screen! David marches out and complains – evidently loudly. He is offered a refund which he refuses. He goes back in to finish the movie. When finished he comes out again and loudly complains – now demanding a refund. When denied (because he went back into the movie), he gets angry and pulls the fire alarm. This shuts down all the theater’s screens and panics movie goers.

This is a special kind of S.T.U.P.I.D. When I first read about this story, I have to admit. I had some “AVENGER” feelings going on in my own heart and mind for this idiot. I thought, “Wow. If he could live one day in my shoes. It would be poetic justice for him to lose his hearing someday!”

Deaf For A Day

Because I live with both deafness and a balance disorder, I can tell you honestly that really? I wouldn’t wish deafness on anyone. Yeah. This jerk probably deserves it, but hopefully what he’ll get is justice. I hope because he endangered so many people that they make an example of him. I hope everything was done correctly in his arrest so that he doesn’t get off on some kind of technicality.

Each year I ask my students in my ASL1 class to voluntarily participate in a “Deaf For a Day” assignment. Later, they write about it. Most “get it”. They understand what the assignment was about and why they are asked to participate. Each year, however, I have either a student or two, or a parent or two, very disgruntled about the assignment. In the follow-up writing assignment, some disclose how poor of attitudes family members had because they were unable to communicate with their student in a “normal” way.

Yes.

I like to think that should something happen to their child and they lost their hearing, these parents would do all that they could do to be supportive and loving in the transition to a new way of communicating. They may not use ASL even, but technology is not a 100% fix. Even cochlear implant surgery is not 100%. I’m bi-modal (both cochlear implant and hearing aid) and although I hear really well, I still am considered a person with hearing loss. There are times I have to ask for a repeat, or ask someone to follow me to a quieter location.

Put Yourself in Their Shoes

Before you think to yourself that you would never be this “special kind of stupid”, consider this.

Have you ever parked in a handicapped space to save time because you were only running into the Post Office for 5 minutes?

Have you ever sat at a table clearly marked for handicapped patrons at a local fast food place because there were no free tables, and then failed to keep a look-out for anyone coming into the establishment that may need that table?

Have you ever reached to pet a service dog without requesting permission of it’s owner?

Ever felt exasperated (and let it show) while waiting in line behind a mom with a child with autism or other special needs who was having a meltdown?

Have you ever felt impatient as someone with mobility issues that fumbles and drops items while you are waiting in line at the cashier?

Ever see someone stumble or walk funny and immediately think they’ve been drinking instead of thinking they may have a balance disorder?

Ever honked your horn and grimaced at an elderly driver who cautiously entered a very busy intersection during peak rush hour?

Not understanding what chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, or Lyme disease actually are, have you inwardly cringed and rolled your eyes while listening to a seemingly endless list of complaints about pain from a co-worker, fellow church member, or acquaintance?

Ever see someone mistreating a homeless person or person with mental illness and not intervened?

Ever stepped into a handicapped stall in a public restroom because the others were full? Exactly how are you going to know someone is there who needs it when you are actually in there doing “business”?

You may not be pulling fire alarms and endangering hundreds of people, but you are still choosing to be a part of this special kind of stupid group. I’ll admit that I’ve made some of these mistakes myself. We all have.

I’m asking that all of us take a minute, however, to think about how we can do better. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be a special kind of stupid.

Ever.

Let’s love our fellow man, offer a helping hand when we can, and smile at someone just because it’s Monday. Buy a cup of coffee for the next person in line. Hold the door for someone.

Maybe.

Just maybe…

it will be contagious.

Denise Portis

© 2012 Personal Hearing Loss Journal