Hear the Sunshine
“A True Story”
Charles E. Wells
Copyright Charles E. Wells 2011
Published by Wellston Publishing at Smashwords
Visit the Author’s website at:
http://www.wellstonpublishing.com
This book is dedicated to those who refuse to give up regardless of the odds.
Chapter One
Two old men were sitting in the park one day talking. One guy said, “My son just bought me this great new hearing aid. I can hear everything with it perfectly.”
The second old man said, “Wow, that’s great. What kind is it?”
The first old man pulled out his pocket watch, looked at it a moment then replied. “It’s about quarter to three.”
When I tell someone that I’m deaf, they automatically assume I mean “deaf as a post” and then get mad with me if they discover otherwise. The little joke above proves the man with the new hearing aid is also deaf even though he is functioning in a conversation. Nonetheless, by definition, he is deaf just not deaf as a post and neither was I until much later in life.
When I tell people I am deaf, they assume I mean deaf as in, I wouldn’t hear a train coming if I were standing in the middle of the tracks. I’ve learned to live with that because human nature is human nature. It's not something you’ll change overnight.
Before my Cochlear implant in 1987, I could still hear some sounds. I could even talk on the phone with “known” voices such as family members, but I couldn’t understand or grasp most of the words. I finally gave up and stopped using the phone about ten years before the implant surgery. My beautiful wife, Gail, became my speech coach and helped me avoid the expected “monotone patterns of deaf enunciations” that some deaf people develop.
She and I developed a system of signs between us that works to this very day. When she hears me slur a few words she will caution me with a pointing finger movement right to left. If I let my volume get too loud, she will motion succinctly downward with the same finger or motion upward if speaking too softly.
She is my true lifesaver through this entire nightmare of hearing loss ever since we married in 1973. She is half of the reason I continued to fight for hearing and I can’t thank her enough or love any other human on this planet equally or above how much I love her.
But using the phone was simply too much strain on my nerves and not worth the aggravations I was causing others who were trying to communicate with me over a wire. Had cell phones and text messaging been around back in the 1980’s I probably would have accepted that and given up my war against silence.
Even today with cell phones and text messaging, I tell people I’m deaf because my implant and its magical ability to let me understand over sixty percent of the words I hear, is not “normal” hearing. I still end up like the old guy in the joke above because sixty percent comprehension is still missing forty percent of what is said. I have to “fill in the blanks” or take an “educated” guess on the other 40 percent. Sometimes I guess right (Kind) and sometimes I guess wrong. (Time)
Doctors of Audiology tell me that I’ve learned to use that sixty percent efficiently because my “guessing” and “filling in the blanks” has shown more luck than a riverboat gambler. Still, it’s a nerve wrecking thing to be guessing instead of understanding with confidence. Here’s an example of that issue.
I walk up to a person who has a dog on a leash. The dog starts barking and I hear the owner say “The… dog… you.” That’s all the statement that I’m able to understand over the barking and other background noises around me. Is that dog owner telling me “The dog will bite you” or perhaps are they saying “The dog really likes you.”
I have to guess which version is correct (if either) but keep my hands in my pocket until I’m sure the person said, “The dog really likes you. He’s happily barking.”
When you think about the above, it explains why it’s much easier to tell people that I’m deaf and let their own imagination define it. The problems don’t begin unless they figure out that that I’m not as deaf as a post. When that happens they act offended because nobody likes being conned or lied to and they, right or wrong, think that I’ve done just that, conned them.
Here’s an example of a real easy con to spot. You see a man seated on the sidewalk. He’s wearing dark sunglasses and has a sign propped up saying “Please help me I’m blind.” You feel sorry for the guy, reach in your pocket and drop all your loose change in the cup at his feet. Three days later you are coming down that same sidewalk and there sits the same man, same sign, and same dark sunglasses, only this time he’s reading a newspaper with his “blind” eyes. That’s when you know you’ve been conned. When people discover that I’m not “deaf as a post” they react much like you would after seeing that blind man reading a newspaper. I’ve conned them, they think.
When I’m forced to explain to someone that I didn’t understand, they try to justify their embarrassment. I’m fully aware that I’m deaf and my handicap is not something easily spotted. It’s not like I was on crutches or riding in a wheelchair. I’m not limping along on an artificial leg or using a tong to pick up stuff with an artificial arm either. Those handicapped people have it easy far as being spotted. Want to hear something really funny? Several years ago I injured my ankle and was on crutches for several weeks. During that time, I could explain my being deaf to anyone and they acted sympathetic and very understanding about it. They saw the crutches and I guess their minds were able to pass that pity for my ankle on to my ears. Heck, I don’t know what they were thinking.
Have you ever wondered why some blind people wear dark sunglasses? What do they need them for? They can’t see anything, can they? Why don’t you go running up to one and demand to know why they are wearing sunglasses if they are blind. I’ve asked a few about it (nicely mind you) and most of the ones I’ve talked to are some of the friendliest people on earth. One man told me he wore the glasses because his sister said his eyes looked “weird” without them. Heck, even a few of the blind people I’ve met have a Seeing Eye dog and when that person senses you approaching they might say “The… dog…you.” Okay, that’s what I hear at least.
Here’s another good example of what I mean about being deaf and getting the negative treatment from a total stranger. I was in line at the bank one day and a nice young lady in front of me turned around and asked me something that I didn’t understand. I said, “I’m sorry, I’m deaf. What did you say?”
About the time I got those words out of my mouth, a very loud noise erupted behind me and I turned to see what had caused it. Some man had knocked a metal ink pen holder off a table and it clattered loudly on the hard tile floor. To be perfectly honest about it, I felt the vibrations on the floor through my shoes and that’s what actually triggered me into looking more than actually hearing it hit the floor. Either way, I turned to see what commotion was all about.
When I told the lady that I was deaf she obviously assumed I meant “as a post.” So when I turned back around to face her, she was standing there glaring at me with pure evil in her eyes. She snapped and said, “I thought you just told me you were deaf but you certainly heard that didn’t you?”
“Yes ‘mam, I certainly did. I’m hard of hearing.”
“Then why did you say you were deaf? There’s a difference, you know, because if you were deaf then you couldn’t have heard that thing hit the floor behind you. Why don’t you just get a hearing aid or is it because you are too ashamed to be seen wearing one? My father wears one proudly and he’s not ashamed to be seen wearing it.”
“Good for your father. I’m sure you’re very proud of the fact that he is handicapped.”
“Huh? He’s not handicapped he just wears a hearing aid. My goodness you have a chip on your shoulder, don’t you?”
“Trust me mam, one day I’ll write a book about it.”
I apologize here and now to that lady for having taken about twenty years getting around to writing that book, but here it is for you. If you’re still alive and reading I’ll even send you an autographed copy. My email address is at the end of this book and there’s one detail about our meeting that I left out here. If you include that detail, I’ll know it’s you for sure and send the book right on to you free.
I also tell people that I hate being deaf with a passion which makes them immediately feel sorry me. They assume that I’m unable to cope and accept my handicap and then move on in life. Why should I accept it? Is there some law that says if a bus knocks your arm off that you have to spend the rest of your life with only one arm? Do you have to accept it and move on? Of course not or else there would be a lot of one armed people out there not using the marvelous technology available for such handicaps.
Those people don’t accept the condition because they use the doctors, trainers and technology available to adjust to their new limitations but, they are not really adjusting to the handicap; they are fighting it, fighting to get back their “normal” world and abilities. What’s wrong with doing that? We should commend and not feel sorry for them. Above all, we should not be stupid enough to tell them to get use to it. Get your own arm or leg or eyes or ears knocked off and see if you sit down and prepare to remain that way for the rest of your life.
The assistance and technology available today can move just about any handicapped person back to the line of center. (Normal) So in case you missed it, this book is going to prove that “accepting a handicap” is nothing but pure horse hockey. If any doctor tries to lay that concept on you, then get up and walk, roll, hobble, or crawl out of that office and find yourself another Doctor. The old adage goes, never accept defeat. Well swap out the word defeat for handicap and BINGO, you’ve got me dead in your sights.
Another thing about this book you should not expect. It is not intended to be a self help and motivational “get use to your handicap” romp through words. It’s also not going to be widely read by people who were born with what we define as handicaps. Why not? Because most of them are very happy with their lives and to them, being deaf or blind or being born with a missing limb or two is perfectly normal. This book isn’t for such people for anything other than informational or entertainment value. I’m writing about getting back to being happy again and as close to normal as possible. That means that the most people who receive something good from my thoughts will be those who, like me, lost a body part or function after growing up with it or at least into their teens then losing it.
I’m deaf but I use to play lead guitar for a rock and roll band in the 1960’s. I learned to play piano in the early 1970s. I went deaf in 1978 and lost it all. I want that back but most people who were born deaf have nothing to get back. They never had it so they only see hearing ability as a curiosity and not a necessity. Many of them could join the hearing world using the Cochlear Implant but why go through all that if they are already happy in their world?
I don’t recommend getting the implant for any reason unless you are willing and prepared for the fight of your life both mentally and physically. Any other reason would be a serious mistake so don’t think about it and don’t urge a deaf person to get an implant either. If they are perfectly content, then there is nothing gained from the implant.
Also, don’t be insulted if you discover they think you are the one handicapped. I had a deaf girl tell me when I asked her why she didn’t want to hear. She replied (in writing because I don’t use sign) that all people do is “Yap… yap… yap.” Argue with that point; I dare you.
With all that said, the next question I’m often asked is, “What makes you such an expert?” I’m an expert in learning to and using the Cochlear Implant because I graduated with high honors from the school of hard knocks. No other human being alive today has used the 22 channel Cochlear implant longer than I. Mine was first turned on in August 1987. All those before me I’m told (about a hundred worldwide) have died but not because of the implant. They were already up there in years at the time of the surgery. Why was that? Because the FDA said that all volunteers for clinical testing had to have “severe or worse” hearing losses from nerve deafness and that occurs mainly in older ears. At the time of my implant, I was the youngest to receive the unit and I was only 37 years old. For almost a year I remained the youngest implant patient on earth until the FDA officially approved the Cochlear for all adults, then adding it’s usage in children a few years later.
Another thing that makes me an expert is the fact that I’ve spent most of my life trying to get back normal hearing ability and the experience has been nothing short of a nightmare. Some of the blame is on me, because I was too embarrassed (in my younger days) to explain my handicap to others in fear of being shunned. The rest of the blame is on the medical and technology community that took so darn long to put their heads and talents together and get this hearing restoration project started.
As for my family, I fully credit them and all the people I love for being able to quickly adjust to my hearing needs. As for the Doctors who spent 25 plus years telling me there was nothing they could do and to get use to it, to them I say proudly, “Take a look at me today and then ask yourself why you didn’t’ push the technology and industry to get busy for people like me back then.”
Let me take you to a positive encounter with a stranger and how my hearing loss actually created a new friend in my life. This is going to be a long story so if you need to run to the bathroom then I suggest you go now.
It was June of 1987 and I had just checked the watch on my wrist while entering the main corridor of the Doctor’s annex building at University Hospital in Augusta, Georgia. I noted the time then glanced around the lobby area at the eye catching decor of marble walls and expensive looking furnishings. The place looked and even smelled expensive which explained why the particular Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist I was going to see was charging three times the going rate of any I’d been to before. What lured me into paying such a higher fee was the fact that this Doctor was about to implant the first ever Cochlear 22 channel unit in a patient living in the southern United States. I was more than willing to be that patient too although I missed that by one and ended up being his second.
My appointment wasn’t until eleven a.m. so I still had… how much time did I have? What time had I just read off the watch? I didn’t have a clue but I did remember looking at the numbers, reading them, but now they were gone from memory. I would have to do it again which made the butterflies in my stomach do a few extra back flips. I also wondered if anyone else around me had seen me do this already and would they think I was an idiot for doing it again? Well, like it or not, I had no choice.
In disgust, I raised my arm again and looked at the watch and the digital numbers I saw jarred my memory of having already seen them just a few seconds earlier. Nothing had changed other than the seconds which I don’t really pay attention to. The watch still read 10:32 a.m.
That “stupid trick” my memory played on me added to the already high state of agitation I had been feeling for days leading up to this appointment. I tried to blame the extra anxiety on the road full of “Idiot drivers” I’d encountered for the almost three hours of the trip to get there.
Of course, here is where I need to mention that my anger and rage had become a “normal” part of my thinking processes back then. It had been going on for over twelve years since losing all my hearing ability. I had long ago given up trying to figure out the actual source of my anger so I could deal with it and go for a cure. Instead I just accepted the anger as part of my normal emotional makeup in life but most of my friends and family could still vividly remember the old Charles who was a pretty easy going guy. That Charles fell into a sink hole along with his ability to hear. After that my personality went from “normal” to “hair trigger and dangerous.” Also of mention, my list of friends went from “quite a few” all the way down to “you can count them on one hand.” But let’s get back to that lobby in 1987.
“Okay” I thought to myself while standing just inside the busy doorway of the building. “I’ve got until eleven. I’ll need ten minutes for the elevator ride up and to get signed in with the front desk so that means I’ve got about twenty minutes left to kill.”
Planning such things out like that was also a normal part of my new normal life. I had become habitually punctual for appointments and ruthless to anyone else who was not. I think it stemmed from the fact that since my hearing wasn’t perfect then my punctuality would be. So that’s why I was there for the Doctor’s appointment well ahead of time. As for the excess minutes, those I would use to find a bathroom facility. It had taken four cups of convenience store coffee to get me from my hometown of Dublin to the present location. Most of that trip, as I mentioned earlier, had been spent pointing out idiots in traffic which is a tireless job that requires a lot of coffee especially if you point with the same hand that’s holding the hot cup.
I took a deep breath of relief about the success of arriving with all the extra time and then looked around the lobby once again. This time I was searching for that small blue and white sign on the wall that indicates a restroom.
The intersection where I stood was a hallway that went left and right in either direction. To the left there was nothing but what appeared to be business offices. I looked down the right side and about half way down the hall I spotted the sign I wanted. I also realized that people had been coming up behind me and being forced to go around because I was standing there like an idiot blocking their paths. I glanced around behind me at the doors I’d just came through and noticed they were the sliding type with an automatic opening system on them. At that time, the auto openers were a total waste of money because the flood of bodies moving in and out of the complex kept them open all the time. Seeing that and the hordes of people coming at me also made me more nervous. I don’t like playing on the freeway anymore than I like being in the middle of a crowd, or on the edge of one either for that matter. To me, crowds are best observed from a distance and not entered.
Not liking crowds isn’t abnormal. A lot of people I know don’t like crowds any more than I do and they all have normal hearing. Their issues with crowds are much different than mine though. They don’t like all the confusion within a mass of people especially a moving mass of people. With me, well, I never liked crowds because with my handicap they are dangerous and embarrassing places to be. Now I was in the middle of a monster crowd that was a fast moving and thick. Worse of all, these people were in a big hurry to get wherever they were going, probably because they didn’t plan the trip well ahead of time like I had. I guess I don’t need to mention about my arrogance too and how nasty it became after I went deaf, do I?
I worked my way across the foot traffic and to the side out of the flow. I glanced down the hallway again to be certain the restroom hadn’t been moved or something and then started that way. For some reason that I still can’t explain, I looked at my watch again but at least that time, things had changed. It was now 10:33.
Seven minutes later I was back in the lobby searching for the elevator. For those of you wondering, I washed my hands on the way out of the restroom. I found the elevators and pressed the up button. When the car finally arrived it was empty, so I stepped inside and over to the control panel. I was about to press the number three button when a man walked in beside me, spun around to face outward, and planted his feet like he was ready to ride. I went ahead, pressed the switch and then, without saying a word, I rudely stepped back so he could punch in his own floor.
Why was that rude? Because I was already standing there in front of the keypad and here in the Deep South it’s a common courtesy for the first person who reaches the switch to remain there and take orders from the other passengers. So why did I step back and not perform the courtesy for this man? As Paul Harvey loved to say, why I stepped back is the rest of the story and what this book is all about.
When I moved away from the panel the guy took it in stride, glanced at my already lit number three button and made no moves toward it. Obviously he was going to the same floor which was no real freak of the odds because the annex building, a side one, next to the zillion floor main hospital building, only had four floors. What was also not against the odds was what happened next.
The man said something to me that naturally, with my hearing impairment, I did not understand. The tones of the words and phrases did sound friendly so I figured he was being nice since he and I were obviously going to the same floor anyway.
The fact that he spoke to a stranger in an elevator isn’t a coincidence either because, like I said earlier, this is the Deep South where folks are friendly about such things and believe it or not, I am no exception. That’s why I responded, even though I didn’t know what he’d said first, with a nice friendly “Hey, how are you doing.”
As the doors in front of us began closing, he said something else only this time the rising tones and emphasis on the last word spoken indicated that he was asking a question. I hesitated a bit too long so he turned his head sideways and looked which made me realize I was going to need my lip reading skills before this particular elevator ride was over. At least he was looking at me, which was the best position for optimum lip reading. Okay, I went for it, turned my head, looked straight into the darkest set of brown eyes I had ever seen in my life, and froze solid. Brain locked up.
And speaking of my life, for most of it when a stranger asks me a question it sets off a panic inside that I really find hard to explain. It’s similar to back when I was in high school and the most beautiful girl in school spoke to me one day out of the blue. My mind went totally blank and I never managed to put together more than two words in response. Needless to say she never spoke to me again. But what nailed me in that elevator was how this man was asking a question and by God he was expecting a response. I froze right where I stood. Even thinking about it as I write this, I still don’t know what it was about his “pushy” expression that had me tied up in emotional knots, but that’s what happened.
Shy people will freeze up when trying to operate under heavy stress. The medical term for the condition is called “The cat’s got your tongue.” Shy, deaf people like me, will fail to respond because we fail to understand what’s being asked even if the previous medical condition applies or not. I was like that with everyone in High School and my condition continued to deteriorate as my hearing got worse. I would get more nervous than “A cat in a room full of rocking chairs” if I wasn’t hearing everything said in a conversation. I’m not sure what the medical terminology for that condition is called, but I bet it’s a really long word.
Why was I like that? I didn’t want to be rude and crude to people but more often than not, I ended up pretending I understood what they were saying and then faking my way through such short chit chats. My only other option in such a situation was to admit that I can’t hear well to a total stranger. Care to see how that works out? Okay, here’s a very close to the truth conversation I’ve had millions of times in my life.
(Man) What time do you have?
(Me) I’m sorry. I’m deaf. What did you say?
(Man... yelling very loudly now) I ASKED IF YOU HAVE THE CORRECT TIME
(Me) You don’t have to yell. It doesn’t help me hear any better.
(Man looks at me embarrassed and confused) Huh? If you are deaf then how can hear me right now?
(Me) I’m lip reading and the time is…
(Man now looking afraid or embarrassed realizing that I’m staring at his face) Well I didn’t know that. Why don’t you get some hearing aids or something?
This is not an extremely exaggerated conversation you just read and after going through hundreds of similar encounters with people I tend to be “gun shy” about being honest. It pushed me to a point in my mind where being thought of as rude is better than being thought of deaf. I have no desire to intentionally embarrass anyone and negative encounters of the third kind like the one above (I just made that up but it sounds really cool) forces people into a defensive mode that almost always starts with the above phrase “I didn’t know.” Of course you didn’t know but if thirty five years from now we meet again, you’ll remember that I am deaf, right?
Even after explaining all that, a majority of people who hear me out will still think that I’m being foolish for not being honest. I already know what happens most of the time when I’m honest just like I know what happens if I put my hand on a hot stove. I’m going to get burned, so if I tell a total stranger that I’m deaf then more than likely one or both of us is going to get hot and burned.
The guy in the elevator with me that day seemed nice enough but he was not going to accept silence to his question. He stood waiting, looking straight at me, and that’s unusual. Most people look away if you lock eyes with them so I was going to give him the stare down test plus, it was one of those rare times that I decided to go ahead and explain my hearing problems and risk his defensive maneuvers afterwards. I was already looking at him, eyes locked, but he never looked away, never flinched. Finally I got my mind thawed out enough to say “I’m sorry I didn’t understand you. I’m deaf so don’t try this at home. I’m an expert.”
What I didn’t know at the time was that the man in the elevator was the Chief audiologist, Doctor A. R. DeChicchis, the very Doctor I was on my way to see. He smiled and said very clearly “Well I’m not deaf like you, but it’s only because my wife doesn’t yell loud enough.”
He and I became instant friends from that moment forward. We laughed all the way to the third floor at which time he had totally forgotten the initial question that had triggered the whole incident. I bet if you watched him in a crowd he would check his watch every few seconds too.
It was through that man’s hard work with me and his dedication to help people hear better that I was able to achieve so much along the road to recovering my ability to understand speech and sounds. Today he is a highly accredited Professor with the University of Georgia and is in big demand as a guest speaker on the medical circuits regarding hearing loss and implants.
Now I want to back up even further in my life to what was actually the beginning of being deaf. It was that day when my family officially discovered (instead of suspected) that I had a hearing problem.
Chapter Two
I was eleven years old in the fall of 1963 and hunting season had just opened in Georgia. For the first few days I went solo, alone, and came back each time empty handed. My excuse (and the truth) was that I never saw anything to shoot. My two older brothers, Tommy and Robert, would return from their trips with a half dozen small game animals each they had bagged on the same hunting tracts that I had crossed earlier that day. Dad’s conclusion must have been that I didn’t know how to quietly stalk the creatures so that is probably why he asked my two brothers to take me with them and show me.
Amazingly enough, they agreed but don’t go getting all mushy inside about their generosity. They were not taking me by choice, they were taking me because Dad told them to either take me along or not go at all. The addendum to the dad rules of the newly opened hunting season made my father one of the two reasons that my hearing problems were finally discovered, and, as Paul Harvey loved to say, the other reason is the rest of this story.
Up until that day, I had no suspicions that anything was wrong with my hearing. When I failed to respond to something said by my mother, she blamed it on my mind having wandered off or daydreaming. My father took the more male approach and said that I was “hard headed.” It was on this hunting trip that all previous definitions fell by the wayside and my life would never be the same again.
In hindsight, everyone realized that the symptoms had been there all along but nobody had recognized them. As you are about to see, they are very hard to spot and that’s why I fell through the parental observation cracks. Everyone, including myself, missed all the warning signs.
When dad told my brothers to “either take Charles hunting or nobody goes,” The “option choices” for them were extremely limited. Rob looked at Tom and asked, “What do we do?”
“You and I will never make it home alive”, Tom replied. “Charles will end up shooting us.”
Robert looked at me, then back at Tom, “There’s a 50-50 chance he will shoot you and not me. I’m willing to take that risk.”
There is an old trick that children in large families learned to use. It’s a maneuver where one plays an adverse decision of one parent off the emotions of the other in order to get what you want. In our family, mom was the more likely to give in to the wants of the kids so my two brothers and I approached her seeking resolution.
“Mom”, Robert cried. “Charles will end up shooting Tommy.”
I snapped back, “No I won’t mom. I don’t even know which way to point the gun.” (Not a good response)
Mom looked at my father and asked, “Are you sure he’s old enough, James? (Dad shrugged)
(Mom) What about you Tommy since you’re the oldest?”
(Tom) He’s not old enough mama. He’s only eleven.”
(Me) “I’ll be twelve next month and besides, you started hunting when you were nine.”
(Tom) “I was more grown up than you are.”