One day, I was sitting by myself at a long table in the college cafeteria amidst the chatty crowds of students there. I was grabbing a bagel and an ice tea for a quick lunch while waiting for my next class. My new hearing aids were picking up the annoying bangs and clangs from the staff bussing tables and scraping trays. I watched the hustle and bustle of people coming and going. Some were rushing by so fast that the wind in their wake blew the hair over my eyes.
Occasionally I would jump with a start when someone would drop their books or heavy backpack on the ground or table near me with a booming thud! Those sounds were in the lower frequencies which I was still able to hear. The hearing aids amplified these sounds to an abnormal level! If I didn’t hear them, I could still feel the vibrations and it would startle me.
Suddenly, a good looking young man came over to where I was sitting. He held a lunch tray in his hands and motioned to the empty chair across from me. I imagined he was asking if he could sit there. I was caught off guard, but motioned with a nod and he made himself comfortable.
I wanted to avert my eyes and look demure and wait for this cute guy to strike up conversation, but eye contact is a must for me. So my eyes went right to his lips in anticipation of a possible exchange of words. I think this struck him as instantly interested or flirtatious, and with a smile, he began talking to me. The trouble was, he talked while he chewed his food, and lip-reading him was rather disgusting.
I couldn’t read his lips well and I didn’t hear much of what he said, but at one point, he appeared to be asking me a question. I knew this because his eyebrows were raised, his chin was subtly lifted in the air, his head cocked slightly to the side, and he paused, looking at me as if he were waiting for a response. I was pretty certain I had caught the words “you” and “brothers and sisters.” I believe he had asked me if I had any siblings, so I responded, “Yes, I do.” But, before I continued, I noticed this guy looked rather puzzled. Then he began to laugh.
‘Oh no!’ I thought, feeling very self-conscious. ‘Maybe I messed up. He must think I’m a dork!’ Like an ostrich, I wanted to quickly bury my head in the ground and hope all possible threats would go away. Instead, I just sort of froze, not knowing what to say. Still laughing at me, he continued to ask me questions I couldn’t hear.
I felt vulnerable and continued to hide my hearing loss for fear of rejection. I made a phony giggle and responded with a phony apology. “I’m sorry. There is so much noise around the room. It’s hard to tell what you’re saying.” From my sound memory, I knew that cafeterias were usually not quiet places, so this excuse was good to go. There was plenty of visual noise as well to indicate possible barriers to conversation.
At this, the guy smiled with relief and made an effort to talk a little louder. But, when I continued to fail to answer his questions appropriately, he began to look more and more puzzled. He even stopped eating just to look at me and try to figure me out. I could see him trying to decide whether or not I had any marbles in my head, and whether or not he wanted to continue his efforts in chatting with me. ‘Crud.’
By then, I finally decided to explain that I had a hearing loss. It just wasn’t worth all the peculiar looks from him. I lifted my hair up to reveal my hearing aids in both ears and told him I was hard of hearing. I explained that it was difficult to make out conversation over the drone of the air conditioner, the bangs of the dishes being bussed off tables into their carts, or the scraping of forks on the plates nearby. I went on to explain how these were the sounds that were unusually loud for a person who uses hearing aids, even though they may not have been too loud for a person who can hear.
Slowly, I watched this guy’s face go blank. He froze, not knowing how to respond. I suddenly felt his thick judgment upon me. If I couldn’t hear, what could he say anyway? And so, in an obvious need to escape, gesturing off into the distance, he told me he saw one of his friends passing by and he wanted to catch up with him, or something to that effect. And with a quick dash, he grabbed his tray and abandoned any further exchange with me. It was as I had feared. I had been rejected.
His abrupt departure was a rather rude awakening. I realized that hearing people were now uncomfortable around me as a hearing impaired person. I sat there discarded and stunned. How was I going to ever make new friends, find new love, or have a social life again?
I managed to drag myself to my next class, but half way though, struggling with not being able to hear, and fighting off tears and a plethora of accompanying emotions from this young man’s recent rejection, I decided to leave early so I could go home and cry. It was just too painful.
