Over the past two years, Olivia has had abnormal hearing tests at school. When she was in first grade, I chalked it up to a massive cold she was still recovering from. The results were handed to me in one of those flurries of pick up madness, meaning I forgot about it for a couple weeks, lost the paper and found it again; only to lose momentum and not follow up on testing again.
I remember thinking, "She hears just fine. I can whisper at one end of the room and she still looks my direction and rolls her eyes."
After this year's test, I realized this wasn't just a blip. She had severe hearing loss in her left ear above 2000Hz. I consulted Dr. Google and my dear friend who's daughter wears a hearing aid, sending her pictures of the results. It appeared that this frequency was quite high and I had this little thought that, "well, she won't hear all those annoying high pitched sounds...".
With this, I scheduled an appointment at Doernbecher Children's Hospital with an audiologist. I had no idea what to expect from our hour long visit. It was fascinating! The sound proof room, the hook-ups in ear and out of ear, and the computer screens full of data left me with wonder.
Liv's audiologist was full of humor, silliness, and the utmost care. I don't recall what she had told Olivia, but it sure got her to giggle!
Liv was able to feel the squishy-ness of the sensors before they were inserted into her ear to test her eardrum's movements.
We entered the sound proof room, where Liv was hooked up in both ears to register her ability to not only hear sounds, but the voice of her audiologist, who was in another room watching her (and me) respond to the stimuli. She held a clicker in her hand which indicated when the sound reached each ear. I learned very quickly just how severe her hearing loss was with high pitched input. It actually made me wince!
I had been sitting in a chair behind her through most of the test, but wanted to see her reactions. When she couldn't hear as well, she would move forward in her seat. These natural body cues we have are so ingrained, even when they won't help us in an isolated environment such as this. Her eyes would skew to one side to increase her concentration and she would even lick her lips (this is her "I'm totally in the moment" body language signal).
We learned after her test that she cannot hear "s", "th", "f", and "k" out of her left ear unless in a very low frequency. Thankfully, her right ear compensates for this loss of range. Am I worried? Hell yes. What if this is degenerative? At this point, a hearing aid won't be of any help and I have this gut ache knowing there's nothing we can currently do. I know it's not the end of the world; that many parents struggle with conditions that vastly outweigh what Liv experiences. However, as parents, we all feel this skip in the routine, the trip on the sidewalk, the tumbling feeling as we lose control.
So, I ask you, reader, what life events have you felt a loss of control over? How do you work through them? This is what we do as caretakers of the next generation and it's freaking hard.
Keep on keeping on...