“Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.”
William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar (Brutus at III, ii)
… and for me too please!
Like wearing glasses, all seemed bright and new for a while and life passed by. My new aid became a part of me like my glasses but if I did not wear it there were no great problems out and about. Work was the awkward part. Operating theatres have 'forced pressure ventilation' to keep the flow of air going outwards instead of sucking draughts inwards when you open a door. These were first installed for orthopaedics because bone infections are devastating and difficult to treat. I could survive the occassional sudden dropping of a metal bowl onto the hard stone floor but the continous hum of the ventilation unit above my head is something that has remained a bugbear with me ever since. I had the feeling that I was, in some way, a risk that needed extra thoroughness in planning to avoid the need to be asked for anything. Thereby I didn’t have the problem of mishearing at a crucial moment in an emergency situation during surgery. As a newly qualified anaesthetic technician I had prided myself on being alert. I diagnosed a cardiac arrest on the operating table under the nose of a junior doctor and could work two separate operating lists at the same time if need be. I ‘held the hand’ of junior anaesthetic doctors at difficult times and applied a routine that I still follow in my part time work now, though I am retired. By being in front I didn’t have to follow and others had to listen to me rather than the other way around.
On my first routine follow-up the news was simple. Even in those first few months my audiogram showed some deterioration already. When I think of it now it was so small and still way up the audiogram chart. I was told otosclerosis is often seen in men of thirty years plus so I was a little young, but within a normal range. There was no family history other than an uncle known to be hard of hearing but of unknown cause. At this time only my left ear was affected but as I was to find out in later years, bi-lateral hearing has many benefits beyond just voice recognition.
It was time to think about where this was heading.
I had done Formula Ford motor racing at Snetterton Race Track in Norfolk and Parachute jumps out of light aircraft over Headcorn Airfield in Kent. I couldn’t even hear the safety instructions nowadays let alone the lap and corner marker information. So it was good to have got those experiences out of the way in time. A more unfortunate issue was my time in the Territorial Army RAMC based in Norwich where I was due for re-enlistment after my initial three year sign-up. I could transfer to their Chelsea Barracks but I would now fail the medical. I could not be expected to be safe in dangerous conditions when others would rely on me to help. I had travelled with them on exercises, learnt many interesting facts and tactics for dealing with the wounded and seriously injured in unusual places. Although I never did quite keep in step on the parade ground! My head could hear the sergeant major alright but my feet couldn’t.
This was to come back and haunt me later when an ex-colleague, then in the local Territorials asked me if I wanted to work with the Air Ambulance Service, a job I would have relished. I had to turn him down because of my hearing problems with communications and emergency reactions needed in a noisy environment. It was just one of many adventures I would have to forgo because of my deafness.
I just had to turn up the volume and carry on.
So, I got married instead. Perhaps my deafness might be an asset after all!
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