Showing posts with label hard of hearing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hard of hearing. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Report from Pillville...as delivered by a dream...with a tightrope and a hamster



Dream:

I'm in some kind of improv performance. But not as a professional. I'm a volunteer from the audience. It seems that the point is to select a group from the audience, and then after an orientation with the director, we perform.

The performance space is car wash/gas station. One of those big places with a lot of things for sale so they can triple the cost of what you pay for the car wash when you shop while you wait. They have a little bit of everything, and since we are supposed to use what's in our environment as fodder for the improv, I  hurriedly note the possibilities. There's pet food and greeting cards and car stuff and some minor hardware type stuff. 

The only really interesting thing is a novelty entertainment that consists of a tightrope that runs around the perimeter of the room at ceiling height. Along the tight rope is a variety of characters that either bicycle, unicycle, or walk in perpetual motion around and around above our heads. I'm panicking, trying to think of something clever or some funny way to incorporate this. I'm not really able to hear or focus on what the director is saying. 

To add to the confusion, the audience who had already been seated on folding chairs in a sizable empty section of the room, is now being asked to file out for a few moments so we "actors" can finish our rehearsal/orientation with the director. The audience is annoyed and I am annoyed that there's all this milling around with people talking. I'm grumbling to myself about what a stupid arrangement it all is. Why have the audience come in and gotten comfortable if we now have to chase them out so we can rehearse or whatever you call what we're doing. 

The place looks different when they're gone. There's a big garage door visible now. Maybe it leads to some kind of service bay where they change oil or put your car on a hoist to clean the underside. These big doors have opaque glass in them and through them a glowing  light is visible. It's the only attractive part of the room. Better than the kitschy tightrope. Better than any of the product displays. These squares of light seem to promise that there's something on the other side. Was the director saying something about the doors? I couldn't really hear her. I don't know what she expects of us. I'm nervous. The audience will be returning, and I want to come up with something clever so I began to work on some kind of line where I say something like,"Oh look (pointing to the tightrope and it's characters circling overhead) don't you think our pet hamster would like that? He could run along the tightrope with them!" I don't think the line is very good, even though it does kind of follow the instruction of utilizing the environment.  I have a sinking feeling. This is going to be awkward.

And now for my improvisational interpretation. Here's the tightrope: the hearing loop--which in a home installation can run around the edges of the room at ceiling height. In the dream, I'm my mother--confused, unable to understand because I can't hear. Yesterday the guy from Caption Call came to our house with the new FTC (you'd think we were about to breach national security with her close-captioned phone) paperwork. I was telling him how difficult it is for my mom to hear--that the hearing aids don't help much, that the captioning on the phone is slow and not always accurate. He told us about the hearing loop technology, and about a smart phone app called TalkTranslate. 

The timeline is too short to get my kitchen, living room and dining room looped before Thanksgiving--darn, but I'm hoping for a little help from TalkTranslate so my mom can enjoy the party. This looping thing seems affordable and simple. It's quite widely used in public spaces in Great Britain and Scandinavia, the Internet says. Sounds like a miracle. Anybody out there ever heard of it?


As for the hamster, there's this....

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Report from Pillville: post hospital,the walker, the physical therapist, the vascular surgeon, the cardiologist, hearing aids, and every day we set up the dominoes



It's taken three weeks since my mom's hospitalization to feel like things are on an even keel here in Pillville. The walker and physical therapy were smallish things to deal with. But the pain in my mom's feet  made us worry that four days laid up in bed had compromised her iffy circulation once again. Luckily, the vascular ultrasound proved otherwise, and arthritis is most likely responsible for her pain. Usually not a reason for celebration....but in this case, it's quite a nice piece of news. My mom's hearing seems to have deteriorated since her hospital stay as well, so we've scheduled a new hearing test.

I'd say that my mom is back to where she was before the antibiotics for the skin infection made her sick and dehydrated and disoriented and played havoc with the coagulation levels in her blood. She bounced back physically by the beginning of last week--her therapy finished and the walker got folded up against her bedroom wall, but it's only this week that her mental energy seems fully back to normal. Then yesterday morning she suddenly felt unwell, got sick to her stomach, and had to spend until the early afternoon resting. Uh-oh, I thought.

But whatever it was resolved itself, and by afternoon she was fine. Martini. Dinner. Today I took her to the cardiologist for a regular check up. Her blood pressure was low--so we must take her blood pressure every day and only administer her evening blood pressure medication as needed. Not a problem, right? Still, the dominoes are set up here in Pillville. Like they are every day if you are going on 89.

Yesterday on Facebook, I stumbled across THIS. Since I live with my mother, I entered 365 in top box.
The answer was not a big surprise:

Your mum is living
10years beyond the age she is expected to die.
Yeah, I know this time with her is all bonus. I think of it every morning. Every time I come back into the house after going out. Every evening when I eat dinner with her and I'm finished 10 or 15 minutes before she is and I sit at the table  watching her chew with her eyes closed, wondering how I might become a more scintillating conversationalist. I think of it when we say good-night. It's bonus time. All of it.

photo credit: the ragblog.blogspot.com

Monday, October 22, 2012

Elderly Woman Literally Buried by Avalanche of Paper



After completing the following rant. This is what I will drink.


My mom has been to seven different doctors since she arrived here in Margaritaville. She's had her pacemaker tested. She's had a bone density scan, an electrocardiogram and a test of her carotid artery. Tomorrow she'll have an ultrasound of her legs, and it was filling out the paperwork in advance of this upcoming appointment that has pushed me over the edge. Eleven pages to fill out. Much of it redundant. All of it completely redundant when you consider that each doctor's office has required the same information over and over again. Why? Couldn't there be a universal form that one fills out with the primary care physician? Couldn't a copy of that form be given to the patient and then carried to the next doctor and the next, etc, etc? What if the patient had a flash drive? Oh, wow. How long have flash drives been around? For fucking ever. So why oh why are the elderly being abused with reams and reams of paper? A lot of these folks already wear glasses, hearing aids, false teeth, and are strung with a  "I've fallen and can't get up button." What if they also had a cool little bracelet or key fob or necklace with a fucking flash drive that contained all of the relevant medical information?

In addition to my own pre-printed list of my mom's meds (there are 14 including the supplements) that I give to the doctor's offices to copy, I have now created a pre-printed list of her surgeries (9) and her diseases and conditions (14). AND, HEY, DOCTOR'S OFFICES OUT THERE, IT WOULD BE FUCKING FABULOUS IF THERE WAS A COVER SHEET WITH THIS SIMPLE QUESTION: Is the patient hard of hearing? Letting the doctor and staff know that right off the bat could be an immense help, dontcha think? And then maybe there could be some fabulous continuing education classes on how to talk to a hard-of-hearing person. Or maybe doctors and their staff could follow this one little rule. LOOK AT THE HARD-OF-HEARING PATIENT WHEN YOU SPEAK TO THEM. Look. At. Them.

That is all.