Hey, I'm Jacquelyn, and I'm partially deaf.
It’s my annual doctor’s appointment where I try to hold it together without bursting into tears. No, it’s not a life-threatening diagnosis, but it is a way-of-life-as-I-know-it diagnosis. Memories flood my brain as I try to focus on the beeps and words amidst the static. It’s just a routine audiology appointment (well, routine for someone with significant hearing loss), and I sit in the booth listening to beeps, words, and lots of static. I’m not really sure why I cry every time I enter this room, but I do. I don’t think I feel anxious, but I feel a type of grief as I sit with the weight of what this appointment means for me. Memories of the ENT appointment as a child where they removed the tubes (ouch!) and noticed lots of scar tissue - Goodbye ear infections; Hello permanent hearing loss Memories of being checked out of school feeling “cool” that I was “different” and needed biannual hearing tests Memories of seeing the words “hearing aids fitting?” on my chart at my ENT ...