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It seems odd that people can blithely disregard laboratory results on various causes of cancer, with the smug and self-evident claim that rats are not the same as humans, yet when the hair cells of 3-day old rats regrow with overdoses of a vitamin, they want to know more about the miracle that can bring their hearing back.
Do I jump up and down when I read the latest announcements of medical research? Well, yes, but not for the reasons you may think. There isn’t one of us who has not cursed at some barrier in the hearing world and wished for just 15 minutes of hearing. But the argument against indulging this wish with hopeful press releases about lizard science is that we all have a life to live now. They say AG Bell was trying to invent a hearing aid but bombed out and ended up with that useless hunk of plastic called a telephone. Maybe this research will produce nothing more than speaking salamanders.
Occasionally I do indeed find deafness to be as inconvenient as the next person does. I get a bit of fiendish satisfaction demanding equal access and accommodations under the laws of the land, but it would really be more profitable for all concerned if I could switch my hearing back on when necessary, and do things the “normal” way. Deafness has been a pretty fundamental reckoning for me, but I do not look back on hearing as the most meaningful part of my life, nor do I really relate when others do. So the desperation about finding The Cure perplexes me. As does the insistence by some that this search should be ALDA’s chief mission.
It seems some people think “accepting deafness” is an editorial oxymoron at ALDA (or perhaps just an editorial moron). This passion was expressed particularly emphatically by one recent ALDA News correspondent, who wrote: “[ALDA News declining to publish a personal experience account advocating cochlear implants declares] that the deaf should just accept their deafness and lower economic status that comes with it. I can no longer belong to your backwards organization. I want my membership fee back because your newsletter does not provide me with any useful news. It is just a group of personal summaries of personal experiences and I don’t give such ‘news’ a high priority in my reading list. I think I will join an organization that really tries to help deaf people, not just agree that deafness is nice. I think your brains are in your toes. You are a backwards, bossy, pushy person. Clean up your act, lady!” We wonder what self-image motivates some of us to insist that ALDA focus on these cures, regardless of their irrelevance to large segments of the ALDA population.
I would be comfortable placing a small wager to the effect that there will not be a Cure that remedies all types of hearing loss within my lifetime. The different ways we all went about becoming deaf mean one man’s “promise” is another man’s ho-hum. Just look at all the unimpressed NF-2 (neurofibromatosis type-2) folks who are sick to the gills with being urged to get cochlear implants.
Just how much are you willing to give up to hear again? The “price” does not need to be just money. Suppose the research leads them to a rare orchid in the Brazilian rainforest that we can toss in a salad and have cochlear regeneration but which attacks the optic nerve? Would you still pick it? Would you trade your ability to get out of bed to be able to hear, or if it meant gaining so much weight that only Dick Gregory or Richard Simmons could rehabilitate you? Would you take The Cure if it made all your hair fall out? If it reduced your life expectancy by ten years? Suppose it required quite risky surgery and there were very few successful cases before you?
If we say there might be a magic potion or gizmo someday, will that deter you from taking some positive steps to accept deafness as a part of yourself today? Will you keep taking on the extra load of making sure your ‘defect’ does not intrude on the enjoyment that you provide to other people?
What if you hold out great hopes for The Cure and then it comes along and it is not what it promised to be? It will not work on your type of loss, or will only provide a bit of background noise? Will you be even more depressed than if they had said today, “There is no cure. Forget it. Live with it.”? What if you hold out hope for The Cure and everybody knows it and they are hoping for it too, because it would really be more convenient for them if you hadn’t changed at all, and then The Cure comes along and it looks pretty scary and you want to back out… would you? I know people whose families just could not learn to sign or speak clearly but nearly tripped over each other in the race to help with the phone call to the cochlear implant center. The “supportive family” can communicate its wishes in subtle ways. Or suppose everyone has all these big hopes and you go for it, and you really can’t make it work. But they all think you are fixed now, and lose patience with dealing with it. You know, like “you told us this would work, and we waited all this time, and now look at you. It didn’t work.”
Or suppose all those dissected bird brains tell us nothing? If we suppose there will never ever be a magic potion or bionic gizmo, and you will be deaf forever, would you look at your deafness differently today? Would you learn sign language or look up the phone number of a CART reporter and start using captioning at work, meet some deaf people and realize they are just as nice to be with as hearing people, ask to have your secretary replaced with someone a bit more lipreadable, tell your family you really would appreciate them repeating those dinner table jokes until you get them because it really does annoy you to be told “it didn’t matter, it wasn’t important.” It is one thing to be curious about a potential medical treatment for deafness, but another to insist that only medical treatments and not social treatment have any value.
Our curiosity about these promising treatments is tinged with cynicism, skepticism, and realism. Much enthusiasm and optimism in research is motivated by the need to release the next phase of the grant money. We have seen over 200 years of the history of deaf people scarred by attempts at a Cure, at times bordering on sadism when viewed through the lens of time. We also see the hearts broken when promises fade.
We would like to see research conducted with a respect for the fragile self-esteem of people losing a vital and comforting sense. We would like to see research justified without stating that deafness is a grievous calamity and an abomination. Hearing is about as useful as a sense can be without being essential. A life without hearing is still a worthy life, and we disagree that lower economic status is an inevitable consequence of deafness.
It seems that to live a good, long life, you ought to be eating low-fat high-fibre diets, avoiding smoking and second-hand smoke, drinking plenty of water, getting regular exercise and adequate sleep. If your lifestyle has not changed to accommodate these things, because you think that the laboratory findings are inconclusive, we have nothing much to tell you about 3-day old rats and the promise to make you hearing again.
Let’s play the What If game again. What if you actually can hear perfectly again. Will you be entirely happy to leave all your ALDA friends behind, go back to be among the hearing people? Did deafness change only your ears? Some people think it made our brains migrate down to our toes. Many of us believe that deafness changed our hearts as well, and for all the times we curse the inconvenience and the barriers, we could never go back.

This article previously appeared with my permission in
The 1993 ALDA Reader

ALDA: Association of Late-Deafened Adults
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10310 Main Street
Fairfax VA 22030

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Last revised: June 12, 2001
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