Down the Tubes Productions

Non-Hearing Thoughts

The sun shone brilliantly in the cloudless sky. The wind blew forcefully enough to fly kite. One made from a shipping pallet. in short, it was the kind that makes the bite of the winter even deeper. This was the day of my first acupuncture appointment. Ever. I have a few general thoughts before I get into the hearing-related thoughts.

Mine is a scientific mind. A quarter of a century working with technology will do that to you. Not to mention, I’m statistically, a scientist. I have a Masters in Library and Information Science. That said, I’m a scientist like a triangle player is a musician. As Mark Twain quipped:

There are kinds of lies; lies, damned lies, and statistics.

But before this riverboat runs aground, let me set aside both Western science and Mr. Twain. Which is exactly what I had to do when I made this appointment. Among the many, many, (many, many…) flaws with the US healthcare system is the lack of the coverage for acupuncture. Western medicine does not think kindly of Eastern medicine. This appointment would be out-of-pocket. Even with the riches that come with being a librarian, I have to be careful with what I spend money on. But since this treatment comes from the same area of the globe as my spirituality, I was more inclined to give it a shot. Dubious analytically-bent mind all.

Thoughts on the Treatment

After walking into the Bedford Acupuncture Center and taking off my sneakers, I was led into a treatment room. I received my first shock when I lay on the heated table. Thankfully I was shirtless or I would have overheated in 3.14 seconds. I received my first needle shortly thereafter. It was in my shoulder. I felt a quick pinch but after that, I didn’t even notice it. Had the West won? Were the benefits of acupuncture an example of the placebo effect?

Ah, yeah, not so much.

When Yoko warned me that tight spots may cause twitching, I said nothing. I was trying to keep an open mind. Turns out, it wasn’t hard! When she put the second needle in my right trapezius, my muscle jumped. Hitting the trigger point made my muscle flop like a fish. It stung briefly before the muscle relaxed. That was very much not a psychosomatic reaction. And it was very much not the only muscle that behaved this way. Nor was it the only physical effect she predicted.

The most astounding prediction was the one on my ankle. As she was wont to do throughout the appointment, she checked in on me and warned me when she was about to do something that would be at best uncomfortable and at worst hurt.

Then she stuck the needle into my ankle.

“Oh!” I exclaimed in surprise like some Victorian dowager.

I felt a waterfall of fire rain down from that trigger point and spread out across the bottom of my heel. I could feel each individual nerve come alive. The feeling faded right quick, though, and she repeated the display on my other ankle.

After that, she left me for 15-20 minutes and I assumed the role of the meditating pincushion. It was a fantastic meditation, too. Then she came back in and I flipped over.

She repeated the process on the various trigger points on my backside. (Well not my backside itself but rather the back side of my body.) There were a couple of trigger points that were particularly owie. One under my right shoulder blade offered more proof that there is a science to it. That’s the muscle I have repeatedly pulled working out. My stupid torso is too long and it’s not always easy to keep proper posture performing particular lifts. Thus: I regularly tweak that muscle. And that muscle was the one that hurt like the dickens (whatever a dickens is).

Then she left me for another 15-20 minutes. I wasn’t able to meditate as deeply this time. It was an uncomfortable position for a couple of reasons. (Well, three, if you count me being more ticklish on my back.) I had more muscle twitches as she treated my backside.

Yoko came back to take out the needles and did a quick massage (something she also did the first time, too). But she did something extra this time. She did some cupping. She put rubber cups to suction spots on the body. It forced blood flow to a small area of a muscle. This promotes healing. The more healing needed the deeper the bruise. Unsurprisingly, the deepest bruise was my right shoulder blade.

And then were done.

And now I can get into the second (or third) reason: lying on my stomach was an uncomfortable position.

Facing Down

I’ve been instinctively looking at people when they talk to me for my entire life. It’s a survival tactic. And when I was lying on my tummy I was not facing Yoko. I’ll get into her accent, the volume of her voice, and the dreaded M-word below. But in this section I want a word about how hard it is to hear someone talking at the back of your head.

Very.

Ok, I’ll use more than one word.

Our ears are shaped like the are for a reason. Not just because they hold up glasses. They’re pointed forward to help funnel sounds into the ear canal. When someone throws words your way from behind, they clang off the back of your ears before some softened words tumble down into where you can use ’em. Everyone has that challenge. But I have the added challenge of mics that pic up sound are also pointing in the wrong direction.

And they’re resting on at a pillow.

There is usually more than one mic in a bionic ear. But the important one is front-facing one. They’re designed to help you hear things. The most common “thing” is a person. And the most common position is in front of you. So when I was prone, there was a pillow in front of me. Actually, on me.

The times I needed Yoko to repeat herself were legion.

It was better when I was lying supine. Better, but not free from challenges.

Facing Away

When I was lying face up, my mics were pointed in the right direction. And when she was sticking needles in my arms, torso, and even my knees, I could see her and generally hear most of what she said. I have terrific vision and can see a wider area around me than a lot of people. So it was only when she was working on my ankles and feet that I struggled mightily. I would lean up a bit to look at her, but it was uncomfortable. I could feel the needles in my chest, traps, and shoulders when I did.

This was the first part of the session. And it’s when I first asked her to repeat herself. She was quick to accommodate my hearing needs. In fact she was quicker than any other non-audiologist doctor I’ve ever had. And, no, not all ENTs or audiologists I’ve been to have been keen on accommodating my hearing needs. Or have even been as patient with my need for them to repeat (or rephrase) themselves as Yoko was.

So let’s get into what made her so accommodating.

Foreign Voice

This doesn’t have to mean someone from a different country. Any voice I have not heard before is foreign to me. It takes my mind a little while to warm up to it. Everyone speaks differently; different ways of pronouncing phonemes, different speeds of speaking sentences, different volumes, different attentiveness, and a bunch more.

For the first time ever at a doctor’s appointment, I self-identified as hard of hearing. This is something I don’t even do with new PCPs. I put hard of hearing in my chart, but they never remember it. Even when they ask me to remove my bionic ears so they can look in my biologic ears, it rarely clicks that I’m having trouble hearing them. I wrote about PCPs in an earlier post, but I wanted to mention how self-identifying at a doctor’s office doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll get the accommodations I require here, too. I also wanted to mention it because it influenced how Yoko interacted with me. And it was a wonderful influence.

I know I said that a foreign voice doesn’t have to be a voice from a different country but in this case it was. She’s from Japan. She’s been practicing, at least in Bedford, since 1999. So while she still has an accent, she’s had decades of practice.

The Asian accent is the kindest to my ears. I know “Asian” one of those overly broad WASP-y groupings. I do hear the difference between Chinese-accented English and Japanese-accented English. And all the other countries, too. But don’t ask me to say which-is-which. I picked those two because Yoko’s is freshest in my mind and Venus’ is the one I hear the most. So with that long-winded disclaimer out of the way, let me describe how Asian accents play with my ears.

Those Asian accents I’ve come across are invariably slower. The words are more measured than other accents. The words are enunciated more clearly, not slurring phonemes together or skipping some altogether. (That includes a Boston accent like my own. I can be lazy with my phonemes and I know it.)

There’s something I can only describe as a space in the accent. A space between the letters, between the words, between the sentences. I don’t have to struggle through a speedy stream of info. I don’t have to dig through an avalanche of smushed-together sounds. While, I still have to actively listen to pick out words of the air, it’s a more relaxed picking.

Though all accents pose different challenges to hear, they all have something in common: Volume.

You could be speaking Boston-accented English but if you do so softly enough, I have a candle’s chance in Antarctica of understanding the words coming out of your mouth. Yoko’s volume posed no such hopelessness. I did have to ask her to repeat herself on a number of occasions but I was pleasantly surprised by how quickly she picked up on when I was having trouble hearing. 

On more than one occasion she started to say something, stopped, moved her mask off to one side, and said what she wanted to say. (You really didn’t think that DHH-bane, the mask, would be missing from this post did you?) I’ll admit, I didn’t have her repeat everything I missed. But for the first time…ever? I asked more oft than not. She was generous with her attitude, too. I’ve been met with disbelief, scorn, and outright anger at asking someone to repeat themselves too many times. (Sometimes that time is once.) But Yoko met me where I needed her to be and always patiently repeated what I missed.

She seemed genuinely curious to learn more about my hearing loss and deafness in general. And in so doing she asked the one question I always dread being asked.

Finishing Thoughts

She asked if I know ASL. To some DHH-folk, that’s a maddening question. I’m not one of those folk. I do dread being asked but it’s because I feel like I’m doing deaf wrong by not knowing it. But I shook that feeling off and used it as an opportunity to educate. I told her no, because I don’t have anyone to practice with. I want to learn but without that, I won’t use it. If I don’t use it, I’ll lose it. I also pulled out the stat (sorry Mr. Twain) that only 2% of the 430-odd million DHH-folk know ASL. She then mentioned she’d seen JPL as well as ASL. And that led us down the road of there being many signed languages. I didn’t belabor the point that the question was born from ignorance. I didn’t even say as much. Because that’s not my style. It’s also why I love being able to write and record about hearing loss.

I’d like to end where I began: with a non-hearing related thought. I wrote most of this post the afternoon after my appointment. I felt fantabulous. I felt loose and relaxed. I felt a twinge or two at Trader Joes. They were in my knees. Which I expected. But Yoko had me covered. She gave me pointers on some Yoga stretches to help my knees and ankles.

As for my Haiku…

I have a feeling that this could be the most appropriate post for one or it could be the most culturally-appropriating one. The haiku is a product of 13th-century Japan. Yoko is Japanese. Whether this feeling is a product of the “woke virus” or the product of white guilt, I have the feeling just the same. I’m also going to do it. This is called critical thinking, ladies and gentlemen and beings of all genders. Insulting or not, I am at least aware of the potential pitfalls. If I fall, so be it. I will apologize and not be afraid to try again.

Why East versus West?
We’re all interconnected.
It’s the same planet.