At the doctor's office, the nurse was endlessly talking about who knows what--no, literally, I had no idea what they were talking about. The doctor was running some hearing test on me this morning, and she had already taken my turquoise hearing aids to the counter with her.
The struggles of life haven't been incredibly horrible so far, as I've mentioned to my mother countlessly when she asks. Obnoxious fifth graders last year trying to trip me right under my nose flashed before my eyes in a vision. It's funny; I've always had trouble hearing, not seeing.
And every single time I'd tried to explain that to them, I read their lips muttering to girls around them talking about the language of hand dancing; I assumed they were referring to my first language--American Sign Language. What has always bothered me with constantly transferring back and forth from regular public schools to schools for the disabled, or as I like to call them, "Schools for the Unique Individuals out there,".
My parents and fellow students have always bugged me about what's it's like, and to be fair, it's never been hard to understand anybody because I've taught my friends my language. (Let's get real, though; not that I've really ever had that many..)
When the nurse and my moms' lips ceased to move, the examinations began. She led me to a room where I could see a fat machine and a chair. Here we go with the earphone things again! She pressed buttons and flipped switches, and I sat there, squinting, waiting for something to happen...; and whadaya know?
It didn't. Does it ever? I wondered. My mom asked if I heard anything, and I replied with a simple, "no," by balling my fist into a mute button, swishing it back and forth like a shark's tail. Next, for some reason I had to write my name on the paper. Picking up my pencil in my left hand, I wrote: PAISLEY in all caps.
I made sure to sign to the nurse however that I did not have some ridiculous disability that disables me from writing in lowercase, as I have been inferred about on my previous visit. I blew on an amber-blond bang hanging in my face out of perpetual boredom. I lip read the nurse asking my mother a question.
"Yes I can speak I just don't very often," I replied. The lady wrote down, "DICTATION TONE AND PACE: QUIET AND RAPID." on a clipboard. I felt so embarrassed just then! I guess I should probably practice a bit more.
I just have always felt that there's no need for me to speak if I initially have no idea what I'm saying or if I'm doing it right. Shortly after we got home, my mom explained that my hearing results came back null and if I was willing, I could take a cochlear implant. Or, there was one other option: I COULD CHOOSE TO REMAIN DEAF FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.
TO BE CONTINUED!!
