Testing Times with my little Terror

My little Addy has always been a feisty one. I actually love that about her. So full of life. But when she unleashes the 'fiesty' into a full blown tantrum - it isn't pretty.

A few days ago, we had an audiology appointment. This was not because I have noticed any troubling indicators that there might be a problem with her hearing. It was simply that a routine test carried out at school was 'inconclusive' and a follow up examination was recommended. At the time I wondered if the 'inconclusiveness' of the test was because she had dug her stubborn little heels in and refused to co-operate. She is not very comfortable with anything even vaguely medical. But as dad has suffered with single sided hearing loss since childhood, we had to take it seriously. I did then start to think that maybe those times when I accused her of ignoring me (the 'up to bed now, Addy' times and the 'tidy up your mess please Addy' times), perhaps there really was a problem.

She was most reluctant to go to the appointment (lending weight to my suspicion that not co-operating was the leading factor in the need for further examination). I CAN HEAR!! she insisted. With persuasion and persistence, I got her into the Medical Centre.

She was fine up until the point when we were sitting in the waiting area... up until the point when the audiologist called her name.  She called her Adrian. The stroppiness commenced. I don't like Adrian - I'm ADDY!!!

She refused to sit in the chair offered to her.

She would only sit in the chair already occupied by her little brother, Dylan (cue frenzied battling between siblings).

I was trying to break up the fight, restore calm and answer questions about Addy's general health and any concerns I might have. (No concerns about hearing - PLENTY OF CONCERNS ABOUT BEHAVIOUR!)

By now, I was understandably a little stressed. The audiologist stepped in, offering a toy to Dylan so he was happy. That left me free to concentrate on Addy. I calmed her. I sat her on my lap.

The audiologist took out her Otoscope.

The device didn't really get anywhere near Addy's ear. She saw the bright light shining on the end of it and screamed - THAT BURNS ME. YOU ARE BURNING ME!!

I felt my energy and resolve to be a good parent draining away. I literally slumped in the chair as she broke free of my hold, stood very upright in the corner of the room, arms folded across her chest, chin tilted upwards, eyes closed. She took a moment to look over her shoulder at the audiologist with a hateful glint in her lovely blue eyes and spit YOU SMELL OF POO AND SOCKS! before resuming her posture of defiance.

Thankfully, the audiologist was very understanding and very patient. I thanked her for it about a million times in between apologising for my child's unacceptable behaviour.

Poor Dylan didn't quite know what to make of his sister's aggressive outburst but he was easily distracted by the book of pictures that the audiologist was now holding. He was more than co-operative. He pointed to pictures, naming the things he knew and asking 'what's that one called' for the ones he didn't know. Addy was lured over - curiosity and not wanting to miss out on something her brother had overcoming her suspicion of the audiologist with the burn-y thing. She was very happy to show off how clever she was, pointing to the items whispered to her. Given the level of background noise provided by Dylan who couldn't quite understand why it wasn't his turn any more, she performed superbly. No indication whatsoever of any hearing defect. Unfortunately, it was still necessary to look in the ear with the Otoscope and take a picture with another device.

The audiologist tried to show Addy the Otoscope so she could see there was nothing to be afraid of and the light would not burn. Addy grabbed it off her and would, had I not intervened, have thrown it across the room. She then refused to let go of it, gripping onto it with a strength that no nearly five year old should possess. After much prising, the instrument was finally returned but we were no closer to a successful examination.

The suggestion that a picture should be taken of inside her ear sent her running to the corner again, where she turned all the lights off and plunged us into darkness!

It was obvious that we were not going to achieve anything without a general anaesthetic so the appointment had to be rescheduled.

I try my best to practise positive parenting. I explained the importance of the examination and between now and the next appointment, the plastic otoscope from the doctor's kit she had for Xmas will be gently probing toy's ears at every opportunity. I hope that will be enough to avoid a repeat performance.

I love my little girl with all my heart but she does push me to the limit sometimes. She plays on my insecurity about being an older mum by saying things like "I love you mummy but I don't love your wrinkles" and then there's "I love you mummy but I love daddy more"

Yesterday when I picked her up from school, she had a picture that she was bringing home. I made the mistake of putting the picture inside her book bag for ease of carrying. If the audiologist could have seen her, she would have realise that she got off relatively lightly during the aborted hearing test. Eardrum shattering screaming. Vitriolic accusations that I needed a checkup because I couldn't hear what she was saying. The picture needed to be carried a certain way and I wasn't doing it right.

You feel the eyes of other parents - some sympathetic, some surely thinking what a terrible mother I must be to have raised such a vile child. The tantrum lasted the whole laboured walk back to the car. I made her carry the picture herself which certainly was not following the path of least resistance.

Later, I asked myself why I didn't just carry the picture in the way she wanted me to. Anything for a peaceful life. There was a practical consideration - one hand was holding Dylan's and the other was holding her lunchbox and book bag - but there is more to it than that. She is wilful and stubborn. I never want to quash her spirit but I do want her to learn to temper her wilfulness and stubborn streak and use them in the pursuit of the positive - NOT for getting her own way at any cost, for controlling people around her or in the avoidance of medical examinations.

She is challenging. She is difficult. But she is amazing and wonderful and glorious... and honestly, I wouldn't change a thing about her... (modify slightly...  maybe!!)

Single Sided Hearing Loss

My ears are still ringing from the onslaught of sound experienced at this weekend's V Festival. Ears and hearing have been very much in topic for me recently.

Last week I attended an audiologist appointment with my husband. As well as analysing the graphs that detailed the volumes needed before his ears registered sound at different frequencies, there was a strong educational element - as in educating me and the family in ways of helping minimise the impact of his hearing difficulties and improve communication.

It was quite sobering looking at the graphs. I've always known that he was deaf in one ear but to see the tangible evidence in graphical form made it very real. The curve for his right ear fell well within the Normal bounds whereas the curve for the left ear fell on the border between Severe and Profound deafness. The audiologist is quite sure that a digital hearing aid will offer some benefit - most notably in the sense that he will be able to localise sound more successfully. He is on the waiting list now for a fitting.

The educational part dealt with the difference between passive hearing and active listening and how difficult it can be for people with single sided hearing loss to filter out background noise and follow conversations. The advice was all fairly obvious - get the person's attention before starting to talk, face the person, maintain eye contact and don't cover your mouth, get to point and don't speak too fast, don't shout, keep an optimum distance 1.5 m and don't turn away whilst still talking. Obvious of course but how many of these simple rules do we actually follow in the home environment? Not many in any sort of consistent way. No wonder the poor man is constantly saying sorry, pardon, say that again! 


Social situations are worst for him. Especially when my family gathers and everyone talks at once. I used to worry that he was in a bad mood or bored when he seemed to glaze over but I understand now that his brain  must have been working in overdrive to try and make sense of what was going on and that cannot be sustained indefinitely.

Ironically, I have also found myself with hearing loss in one ear. As the audiologist was explaining about conditions which influence listening and tactics for better communication,  slowly and clearly and with the majority of eye contact focused on my husband, I found myself glazing over because it was such an effort to try and follow what she was saying! (Luckily, all the information I missed was laid out on helpful leaflets that we were able to take away with us and digest at our leisure.) I am not trying to trump my husband's difficulties by saying but I'm deaf too. My hearing loss is almost certainly temporary and if it hasn't sorted itself out by the time I get back from my holiday next week I will seek medical help. It has not been pleasant but it has given me a great insight into what it is like for my husband. My sympathy towards him has increased enormously.

I was determined to try and be a better facilitator of effective communication and for important things I am very much more aware of the factors that affect whether or not I can be easily understood. However, this awareness has lead me to realise that so much of what I say at home is just not very important. It is chit chat, random comments, nonsense!! It was not worthy of first gaining his attention etc etc. I started to find myself just not bothering to talk unless it was important. I wasn't being a better communicator - I was being a minimalist communicator. Shades of mood and levity were being lost to silence. A rich layer of social interaction eroded by a verbal absence.

It is really hard trying to create a balance - feeling free to communicate (the trivial as well as the necessary) yet abiding by rules. It is especially difficult at the moment with neither of us being able to hear the other properly but we are doing what we can..

We haven't quite resorted to sign language - yet!

E is for Eleven Ninety Five Happy Hours

I have been a little run down and out of sorts of late. If my face were a map of Europe, I have a spot the size of Portugal on my chin. Not only is it unsightly and confidence eroding, it also HURTS. Troublesome as this is, it isn't anywhere near as annoying as my other big problem which is that I have gone almost completely deaf in one ear.

Now, my husband has been deaf in one ear since childhood and although most of the time, you wouldn't know it, in some situations he does struggle. He is currently in the process of consulting with experts in the field to see if there is any possibility of improving his hearing. There is a procedure that might help but it does involve having a metal stud drilled somewhere into the occipital ridge of his skull onto which a device can be fitted. I will definitely be blogging more about this - but at another time. The point for this story is not to go into the physiology and psychology of my husbands' 'disability' but to emphasise that I am suddenly a LOT more sympathetic to what it is like to suffer hearing loss and hopefully I will be a LOT more tolerant when he fails to hear me and I have to repeat myself.

I am not bothered so much by my struggle to hear what people are saying, it is more the discordant symphony of noises from inside my head that plagues me. Noises that I am usually blissfully unaware of. Swooshing noises. Creaking noises. High pitched whistling noises. A whole cacophony of unwanted noises. I also feel very uncomfortable talking because of the way my own voice sounds inside my head (not ideal when living with a hearing impaired husband who needs me to repeat myself!!). It is horribly isolating and extremely wearing.

Feeling how I am feeling, you can probably guess that the last thing I wanted to do was go on a Alphabet Date. However, given our complete failure to carry out a D Date and how that all impacted on the harmony of my life, I decided to throw caution to the wind and just do it anyway.

The E Date on offer involved Eating.

A new Indian restaurant has opened in our town. I'm not sure that the owners of this enterprise fully grasp the concept of 'Happy Hour' because they are offering  Happy Hours every Thursday and Sunday from 5.30pm until 10pm. Whatever they choose to call their special offer, it was an enticing Glass of Wine or Beer, Papadoms, Any Starter, Any Main Course, Any Rice or Nan and Coffee for a fixed price of £11.95.

Eleven ninety five.

That worked for us as a E date!

The children were a complete pain to get to bed so we didn't leave until after 9.30pm but we were seated before 10pm to qualify for the Happy Hours deal.

The menu gave plenty of choice for vegetarians and I thoroughly enjoyed my Chot Photia starter (which was spicy chick peas served in 'puffy bread' garnished with very pretty salad).

For my main course I had Paneer Tikka Masala (as recommended to me by my sister) and it did not disappoint. To my meat deprived palette, the tandoori oven cooked chunks of paneer tasted like finest chicken breast. The rich sauce in which they were served was a delight to the eye as well as the taste buds.

Our conversation was maybe a little stilted with more than the average amount of 'say again?'  'pardon?' and 'what?' but we were able to laugh at ourselves and I had an Excellent Evening!