1/4 Deaf

I think I was around 5 or 6 when I got the chicken pox. For those of you who don’t know what that is like, I’ll tell you.

It was itchy.

It was ugly.

It was wonderful.

My mom is an amazing pamperer. There is nothing in this world quite like being treated like you’re sick when you feel fine. I got delicious food brought to me in bed. I got kisses on the forehead and was asked, “Do you want anything?” I got surprise gifts I could play with atop my fluffy comforter. I got the pick of television shows. Then there was the endless supply of on-demand baths. (Baths are kinda my thing.)

It is possibly my fondest childhood memory.

But, as all good storytellers know, a content story is a boring story. I think we can all agree that God is a seasoned storyteller.

A couple years later I realized that the muffled hearing I’d been experiencing for 2 years was probably unusual. I didn’t really feel like talking about it. It wasn’t affecting my life too much as a 7 or 8-year-old so I just ignored it.

I don’t know how much time passed before I decided to mention it but one day I brought it up to my mom.

Here’s a truth about me: I like to stand out in peculiar ways.

My thinking was, Being deaf will make me interesting.

Call it middle child syndrome but my little sister was as adorable as an impish, silken-blonde doll and my older sister had a long list of problems that my parents attended to including, but not limited to, glasses which I was enormously jealous of.

So when I brought up my handicap I was pretty excited. My mom reacted just beautifully. We sat down, just the two of us, at the table. She asked me questions and wrote down my responses in her notebook. Soon I was released and I felt satisfied with the encounter.

Some weeks later my days became so fun. My dad took me with him to the university in the small college town we lived in to get some hearing tests. I loved hanging out with my dad by myself and I had never been to his school so it was all very exciting.

I tested and failed.

On another day I went to another building. I tested and failed.

Then I tested and failed again.

Finally, we sat down with a wise looking old man who had a peppery beard and wore a mustard-colored sweater. He said I was 50% deaf in my left ear. He then theorized that this may be due to my chicken pox scabbing over the hairs in my ear which could not be repaired. My dad asked about hearing aids.

Then the coldhearted expert said, “Sorry for ya. A hearing aid will do nothing. This will be a lifelong struggle and there isn't anything anyone can do, little girl. Haha, Just don’t listen to loud music and be sure to wear earplugs when you go to concerts.” He may have said it in a more sophisticated way, though.

I thought he was crazy. Why would I ever listen to loud music and who would even have fun at a concert?

I get it now. Loud music is amazing. I have broken that man’s rules many a time.

I wasn’t concerned with what that man said or what any of the others have said since then. The thing is that I don’t know what I’ve been missing for 20 years. I don’t know any different from hearing everything in one ear and in the other hearing sounds as if someone is trying to talk to me underwater. A lot of people in my life never knew about it or simply forgot. It really hasn’t been a big deal.

Sure, if I were ever in a “Saw”-like situation in which I was thrown into a dark room and had to hear my way out or catch a lurker based on the sounds around me, I would die.

If someone whispered into my left ear, “Follow me if you want to live,” I would die.

But on the other hand, loud and obnoxious sounds are slightly less loud and obnoxious.

If someone around me is saying something unsavory I can subtly place my hand to my right cheek, lift my finger and cock my head as if I am listening, then plug up my good ear. From there I just plaster on a smile, throw out an experienced, well-timed social laugh and let my mind wander to wherever it likes.

Yeah, I’d like to have my senses at full capacity, and maybe I will someday. I hear (in one-half of my head, of course) that there are some ear-type advances. I’ll get there but for now being 1/4 deaf has made me interesting.