Hazardous Noise Can Affect More Than Your Hearing

By Strom & Associates

Each year, hazardous noise causes about 22 million workers in America to suffer a hearing loss on the job, and that hearing loss can affect everything from the quality of life to income potential and the ability to work. Understanding the far-reaching implications of permanent, irreversible hearing loss is critical for workers to protect their health and mental well-being.

Risk of Hearing Loss in the Workplace

Noise is one of the most misunderstood workplace hazards. The risk of hearing loss due to workplace exposure is significant. If the noise in a workplace is higher than 85 decibels average over eight hours, permanent hearing loss can occur. Even the noise from a carpenter’s shop or a farming operation can reach this threshold daily.

Hearing Loss Affects Mental Health

People who have untreated hearing loss report a number of mental health issues. They may feel angry or irritable, and often they feel lonely because they are not able to interact with other people easily. This can cause them to avoid social situations. Untreated hearing loss can cause stress, fatigue, and undue tension. Some people with this condition also suffer from depression.

Hearing Loss Affects Income Potential

Hearing loss suffered on the job can also impact a worker’s overall income potential. When a worker cannot hear, he or she may not be able to do a job to the fullest. Reduced job performance can make it difficult to get promotions or raises. It can also lower the individual’s earning power because certain jobs require a full use of hearing to perform safely.

Additional Effects of Hearing Loss

In addition to income potential and mental health concerns, hearing loss can impact an individual’s overall quality of life. This is difficult to measure, but the National Institute of Occupational Safety and Health estimates hearing loss takes away 2.5 healthy years from workers exposed to work noises. Also, hearing loss can impair an individual’s memory and ability to learn new tasks.

The effects of hearing loss reach far beyond the ears. When workers are aware of the long-term and far-reaching impacts of hearing loss, the importance of using protective equipment may become more evident even if the sounds do not seem overly loud in the workplace.

This article was republished with permission from Strom & Associates, a Chicago-based personal injury law firm. For more, see https://stromlawyers.com.

The Man Who Chased Sound Wore Hearing Aids

By Sue Baker

The inventor who changed music and the guitar player who had a room full of music awards wore hearing aids. Legendary musician Les Paul spent his whole life looking for the perfect sound. Ironically, for a good portion of his life he had to pursue his passion for sound while wearing hearing aids.

Before Les Paul performs at the Iridium Jazz Club in New York City, Marty Garcia adjusts his hearing enhancers. Credit: Christopher Lentz.

Les’s hearing loss started in 1969 when a friend playfully hit him over his right ear, causing his eardrum to break. Surgery to repair the damage had its own complications and Les was left with compromised hearing. A few years later another friend did the same thing to Les’s other ear with the same devastating results.

Les disliked how his initial hearing aids made voices sound “tinny” and higher pitched than normal and began to look for a solution. He explored options with numerous audio and hearing aid companies. In the mid-1990s Les connected with Marty Garcia who over time became his go-to audio friend, helping to improve his hearing aids.

The founder of audio and earphone company Future Sonics, Marty created the customized Ear Monitors brand to help entertainers reduce vocal and hearing fatigue. Les tried Ear Monitors during performances and said the devices’ special transducers took his hearing back 35-plus years.

Each Monday night Les performed two sets at New York City’s Iridium Jazz Club. For two hours before the first performance, he did a sound check, analyzing every component. Les had the settings on all the sound equipment photographed so that each week he could tinker with them and study the effect of his changes.

After the shows, Les wanted to be available to sign autographs and meet his audience. To his frustration, he found that it took him too long to change from his onstage Ear Monitors to his “regular” hearing aids. Many fans left before Les could connect with them. Marty’s response was to create a hearing enhancer that Les could wear while performing as well as for everyday use.

Les often joked about his hearing aids. If a battery went out while he was performing, Les would tell his audience not to get their hearing aids at a hardware store. He and Marty also understood that people hear not just with their ears, but with their brains. Together they created a way for the man who chased sound to be able to continue to enjoy and perform it.

Sue Baker is the program director for the Les Paul Foundation, and thanks Marty Garcia, Christopher Lentz, and Arlene Palmer for help with this article. For more, see lespaulfoundation.org. Hearing Health Foundation is grateful to the Les Paul Foundation for its commitment to funding tinnitus research through HHF’s Emerging Research Grants program.

Veterans Sue Over Defective Hearing Protection

By Joseph Oot

Veterans nationwide are filing lawsuits against the military equipment manufacturer 3M, after a July 2018 verdict concluded the company’s dual-ended Combat Arms Earplugs Version 2 (CAEv2) were defective. The verdict in this whistleblower lawsuit, filed by Moldex-Metric on behalf of the U.S. government, paved the way for service members seeking legal restitution.  

This case began three years ago in May 2016 when Moldex-Metric, a California-based company in the military equipment industry, brought charges against their competitor, 3M. The plaintiff claimed that the original manufacturer of the CAEv2 devices, Aearo Technologies which was purchased by 3M in 2008, colluded to manipulate product tests and falsify data in order to achieve government standards and sales. Moldex-Metric was able to present evidence that both Aearo and 3M continued to sell the defective devices for more than 10 years, even though the devices were found to be too short, a defect that made the equipment difficult to properly insert in the ear. As a result, the devices were loose fitting, prone to fall out, and inadequately provided the level of protection claimed by the manufacturer.

After years of litigation, 3M agreed to settle the allegations in July 2018. 3M was ordered to pay the U.S. government $9.1 million in damages—but none of these damages compensated CAEv2 users, and 3M said this settlement was not an admission of liability. However, the verdict against 3M likely sparked the flood of class-action lawsuits filed since then.

More than 300 lawsuits have been filed by service members seeking restitution. Retired U.S. Marine Capt. Matt Morrison of New Jersey is one such service member who in February 2019 filed his case against 3M. He says the CAEv2 devices were the direct cause of the complete hearing loss he has sustained in his right ear. While deployed between 2007 and 2013, including two tours of Iraq and one of Afghanistan, he was frequently exposed to loud equipment, machinery, gunfire, and explosions.

Along with thousands of other service members, Morrison says he came to rely on the standard-issue hearing protection as much as a bulletproof vest. "The gear you're issued is everything from a helmet to a flak jacket, eye and ear protection. I never thought that, after the fact, the gear would be faulty or defective and cause this kind of injury," Morrison told a local news reporter.

Like Morrison, active duty military members are exposed to machinery, aircraft, and sudden weaponry blasts leaving their ears susceptible to noises as loud as 184 decibels (dBA). Sounds at or above 110 dBA can cause permanent hearing loss and tinnitus instantaneously without hearing protection. The U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs reports tinnitus and hearing loss are the most common disabilities among veteran service members, with 60 percent of those who served in Iraq and Afghanistan living with one or both of the conditions today.

Both the military and hearing loss communities take seriously all reports of defective hearing protection, especially given the prevalence and permanence of hearing loss and tinnitus among veterans. Without a commitment to strict product performance, user testing, and data verification standards, service members will remain at risk.

Joseph Oot is a writer with ConsumerSafety.org, an organization connecting individuals with information on developing lawsuits, court cases, and recent news affecting consumers. As a consumer advocate, Oot works with both individuals and industry professionals to share helpful information surrounding potentially harmful products.

Hair Cell Eulogy

By Dawn Doig

People don’t seem to understand the damage they’ll incur
The way that birds’ songs, music, voices, all become a blur -
When the ears are not protected from loud music, shotgun blasts;
The birdsong they heard yesterday may have been their last...

The problem is maybe ignorance, lack of info about the ear
And how its “innards” function when it’s enabling us to hear.
The inner ear is lined with hair cells that when healthy will respond
To incoming sound energy from the ear canal and beyond.

Some hair cells dance to drum beats, some dance to jingling bells,
But regardless of the dance they do, they know their dances well.
The mighty “Endo” (Endolymph) taught them all from the very start
To learn the dance for hearing’s sake; to learn it all by heart.

Endolymph is a fluid that courses through the inner ear
And when Endo starts to move too fast, the hair cells cringe with fear -
Fear of death impending if Endo moves too fast
For hair cells fall like blades of grass as Endo rages past.

What causes Endo’s rages? - for a warning’s never there
And the hair cells least expecting are the ones who never fare.
Amidst a dance of merriment, the rage takes them by surprise
And one by one the hair cells die before the others’ eyes.

One day a shotgun blast went off and downed a startled moose
Another day another blast downed an unsuspecting goose.
Both moments enraged Endo, who pounded in his fury
And lunged upon some hair cells who would otherwise be merry.

The dance to birds’ songs dwindled first as yet another hair cell died;
The remainder knew their fate too well and curled up and cried -
They wept for all their comrades who had lost their lives in vain,
If only muffs or earplugs were worn, they would not have such pain.

They had to strain for spoken words, some still tried to dance,
But numbers now as they were, the hair cells didn’t have a chance.
How hard they tried to make new sounds as loud and clear as before,
But with their numbers now so low, they couldn’t do it anymore.

Farm machinery, music blaring at volumes much too high,
Snowmobiling, off-roading - they all make hair cells die.
Why risk the chance of losing a hair cell dance or two?
Wear ear protection and smother Endo’s rage -

THE DECISION’S UP TO YOU!!

Dawn Diog is a clinical audiologist. Originally from Victoria, British Columbia, Canada,, she resides in Cameroon, West Africa where she is the English Language Learners (ELL) coordinator for the American School of Yaounde.

Doing My Best

By India Mattia

My hearing loss appeared suddenly, at age 61, when I woke up for work unable to hear in my right ear. With no history of difficulty hearing, I was completely stunned. Did I, I wondered, damage my ear with loud music in my headset yesterday?

In a panic, I requested an immediate appointment with my primary care doctor. He prescribed antibiotics and recommended I see an ear, nose, and throat doctor (ENT, or otolaryngologist) if my hearing did not return.

The antibiotics did not help my hearing, and upon the visit to the ENT I learned I had become completely deaf in my right ear and had developed a small hearing loss in my left ear. She suggested injecting steroids into my right ear to restore my hearing. I was apprehensive about having a needle stuck in my ear, but the doctor assured me that the novocaine would numb any pain. I agreed, and the procedure made me feel dizzy.  

One week and two injections later, my hearing had not come back. The ENT could not identify the cause with certainty. She thought it might be an infection. But I couldn’t think of ways I would have gotten infected, and to me I didn’t see any obvious signs of an infection.

Soon my hearing loss was accompanied by vertigo, tinnitus, and ear pain. Every time I moved a certain way, I felt my head spin. I relied on the keep the radio to block out my tinnitus and took Tylenol to dull the pain. My ENT referred me to a specialist at John Hopkins Hospital, but the first appointment I could secure was two months away, in August.

Meanwhile, I began to adapt to the challenges of hearing loss in my daily life. No longer able to hear my alarm clock to wake up for work, I switched to a vibrating pillow alarm. I watched TV with Bluetooth headphones to avoid disturbing my family with the high volume I needed to hear. I couldn’t manage noisy spaces, though. Restaurants, outdoor events, and loud traffic were unbearable to me.

I began to feel embarrassed and ashamed of having to ask people to speak louder or repeat themselves. I was afraid to tell my coworkers at the real estate office where we worked, but confided in my supervisor, who was sympathetic. Outside of work, my husband often advocated for me by telling others about my hearing loss.

When I thought circumstances couldn’t get worse, I learned my office was to close in July, leaving me without a job. I hoped to make ends meet with the severance pay and unemployment compensation while looking for work.

The John Hopkins doctor confirmed an infection had caused permanent sensorineural hearing loss in my right ear. He recommended a hearing aid, but I cannot afford one.

I remain without a job and my unemployment compensation has ended. I have had a few job interviews—but have kept my hearing loss a secret—and have done my best understand the interviewers’ spoken questions. Aside from my hearing loss, age discrimination makes job hunting difficult. I don’t qualify for social security disability benefits because my hearing loss is only in one ear.

All this said, my hearing loss has led me to make some positive lifestyle changes. I read more often than before and have swapped rock and roll for soft music. I’ve reduced my sodium intake and eliminated caffeine which is supposed to improve blood flow to the ear. I ride an exercise bike and have taken up t’ai chi to stay physically active.

I applied for early social security retirement since I will be 62 in June. I am also applying for social security disability for both my hearing loss and asthma, which I have had since my late 20s. I am hopeful something will come through. My story may not have an inspiring ending, but I’m doing my best and looking toward better days.

India Mattia lives in Maryland.

A Woman's Canine Ears

By Barbara M.      

I always knew I wanted to work with people after high school. Though I struggled throughout my education, I graduated, miraculously, thanks to my supportive family and hearing aid technology. With a high school degree I was eligible for Vocational Nurses (VN) school, a career I maintained for over 23 years.

My sensorineural hearing loss was diagnosed at around age 4, well before newborn hearing screenings were commonplace, in 1954. “Barbie needs to see your face when you talk, Mommy,” my sister announced one day, cluing my parents into a possible hearing problem.

Barbara and her most recent hearing dog (HD), Fallon.

I wore behind-the-ear hearing aids and equally relied upon speech-reading, but academics were a constant challenge. Math was the most difficult for me because my teachers often faced the chalkboards, not us students, while writing and explaining equations. My family spent many hours tutoring math to me to ensure I passed.

After high school, I was employed as a nurse’s aide in a long-term care facility. I enjoyed working with and helping the elderly patients, which encouraged me to apply to VN training school. I entered with strong professional references and my two instructors were aware of my hearing loss, so I felt secure.

During the last week of the six-week academic training, which immediately precedes clinical duty training, one of the VN instructors requested a private meeting. She had concerns about my hearing loss. “What if you’re in a situation where you could not hear a patient call/cry out?” she pressed.

Devastated, I reasoned with her hoping she would allow me to begin clinical duty on a trial basis to prove my ability to meet their expectations. I suggested this even though I knew in my heart it would personally difficult to withstand 17 additional months of required training under her surveillance. She pushed back, expressing I could be jeopardizing a patient's life or she could lose her job. I was crushed! I ultimately chose to withdraw from this VN school, knowing I’d be accepted to another school. I was—and graduated to go on to pass the California State Board for licensure.

Some time after my licensure, I was driving past my first VN school and a thought occurred to me; I needed to share my good news with my once doubtful instructor. The instructor with whom I spoke remembered me and congratulated me on my achievement. We chatted amicably before she revealed that the 'other' instructor had since resigned—due to hearing loss she experienced the year after I withdrew from the VN program. I was in disbelief! I hoped she, too, had not faced discrimination. Empathetically, I expressed my concern that no one should be discriminated against because of their disability.

About halfway into my nursing career, in the 1980s, I found myself with the need to to hear more and relied more on speech-reading. I often felt tired and mentally overloaded in noisy environments. One of my biggest challenges during this time was caring for my son, born in 1987. My husband, a firefighter who often worked 48-to-72-hour shifts away from home, cleverly devised a sound-activated light system to alert me when our son made noise or cried in his crib. This was a perfect solution, I thought—except in the case of power outages.

I needed to find another way to alert me to my son's voice at night. It came to me the following year while reading National Geographic, where I saw an advertisement about Canine Companions for Independence (CCI), a nonprofit organization that enhances the lives of people with disabilities by providing them with service dogs and ongoing support. I applied and was paired up with Ronnie, my first Hearing Dog (HD), who helped me immensely by alerting me to important sounds within my home.

Gradually and for unknown reasons my hearing loss continued to decline and I found myself avoiding noisy establishments & places. In 1999 I made the decision to resign from employment so as to ensure quality patient care I no longer was able to auscultate (hear) important lung sounds using the stethoscope. With my skills as a nurse, I chose to transition to be a care provider for my aging parents-in-law, and later, my mother.

I am grateful I was able to remain productive after my resignation, largely because of the help of Ronnie and, later, his successor, Fallon, a Golden Retriever/Labrador mix. Fallon, who passed away in 2014, alerted me to ringing doorbells, whistling tea kettles, and ringing telephones. Though I’m no longer helping people, I’m so happy that Fallon was able to help me.

Ronnie and Fallon helped me to overcome my hidden handicap, a personal milestone towards acceptance of my hearing loss.

Barbara lives in Oregon with her husband, Dan.

First Study to Examine Cognitive Development in Deaf Babies Finds Differences Begin in Infancy

By The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center

Deaf children face unique communication challenges, but a new study shows that the effects of hearing impairment extend far beyond language skills to basic cognitive functions, and the differences in development begin surprisingly early in life. Researchers at The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center are the first to study how deaf infants process visual stimuli compared to hearing infants and found they took significantly longer to become familiar with new objects.

 “This is somewhat counterintuitive because a lot of people assume that deaf children compensate for their lack of hearing by being better at processing visual things, but the findings of the study show the opposite,” said Claire Monroy, post doctorate otolaryngology fellow at The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center and co-author of the study.

Macey Kinney plays with her 10-month-old son Zealand, who was born deaf. A new study shows that developmental differences in deaf babies extend beyond language and hearing, and begin surprisingly early in life. Credit: Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center

To test their visual processing skills, researchers showed infants different objects on a screen. When a baby has successfully encoded the object, they will lose interest and look away. This familiarization is what researchers call habituation. “Deaf infants took longer to habituate to the objects and looked away from them less than hearing infants,” said Derek Houston, associate professor of otolaryngology at Ohio State. “These results were surprising because you wouldn’t expect there to be such profound differences in a test that really has nothing to do with hearing.”

However, researchers say the results don’t necessarily mean that deaf children are learning at a slower pace. “Because they use vision to process the world around them, they may pay closer attention to visual objects,” said Houston. “They might actually be processing more about each object.”

Future research will examine why these differences in visual learning exist so that each child is taught in a way that works best for them and leads to healthy development. “Understanding the source of these differences can really help us tailor interventions specifically for these children,” said Monroy. “And the earlier that happens, the better.”

This article was republished with permission from the Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center. See the original press release here.

Your Concerns About Cochlear Implants, Answered

By René H. Gifford, Ph.D, CCC-A, and David S. Haynes, M.D., FACS

“If you qualify for a cochlear implant (CI) but do not have one, please indicate reasons you have not pursued.”

This question was one of three dozen on hearing conditions posed in Hearing Health Foundation’s 2017 Reader Survey, which was administered through the pages of this magazine, online, and also with Hearing Loss Association of America, through their magazine and online. More than 2,300 people responded to the survey. Those who responded to the CI question above gave the following answers, and they were able to check off as many as applied. In order of popularity, the responses were: 1) not convinced of improvement, 2) surgery complications, 3) waiting for biological cure, 4) concerns about sound quality, 5) cosmetic, and 6) fear of discomfort.

Although “other” with a fill-in option was offered, age did not appear to be a primary concern. In fact, many older adults with severe to profound hearing loss whose hearing aids are no longer are beneficial have found success with CIs, as demonstrated by Barbara Sinclair (page 20), who received an implant 17 years ago at age 72, and our cover story author Bruce Douglas (page 6), who had implantation surgery at age 91.

Part of the survey’s purpose is to better understand the needs of our community of readers and supporters, and so, as cochlear implant surgeons, we wanted to address these concerns.

Source: University of Illinois Hospital

Not convinced of improvement

All CI centers, including ours at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, perform extensive presurgical testing to determine if a CI is the right option for a patient, versus the continued use of hearing aids. The testing, based on data and experience, answers this question with an incredible degree of accuracy. Our goal is to reach a level of hearing that dramatically outperforms the best hearing aid outcomes for a given individual. Expectations are much higher than this, however, and it is extremely rare for a patient who is wearing their implant full-time not to experience much better preoperative hearing performance. The benefit has been so pronounced that Vanderbilt and other CI centers are working to expand implantation criteria so that this technology reaches people with milder forms of hearing loss.

Surgical complications

Cochlear implantation has one of the most favorable risk–benefit ratios of any surgical procedure in the U.S., offering significant communicative benefit while incurring little risk. Our center performs nearly 300 implants per year, and we monitor and track all procedures, outcomes, and complications. As with any operation your surgical team will provide a list of potential complications in order to be comprehensive, but the actual incidence of CI surgery complications ranges from under 1 percent to 3 percent. If any do occur, they are considered minor and temporary, such as postoperative taste disturbances and dizziness. At most CI centers, implantation is completed as an outpatient procedure and generally performed in 1 to 1.5 hours. We recently completed cochlear implantation on a 96-year-old patient who went home on the same day of surgery.

Waiting on a biological cure
The field of hearing restoration through hair cell regeneration—some of which is being conducted by HHF scientists, through the Hearing Restoration Project—is still in its earliest phases. While there have been exciting advances in gene therapy, current technology via cochlear implants can provide people with severe to profound hearing loss immediate access to sound, and all the benefits that this brings. In addition, improved success with CIs is linked to implantation that occurs closer to the onset of hearing loss, as auditory pathways in the brain need to be stimulated or they weaken. Otherwise the resulting permanent changes in the brain’s auditory centers may limit the ability of a patient to hear, even with a perfectly intact cochlea.

Concern about sound quality
Despite CIs being a mechanical device, the voice sound quality has the potential to be no less electronic sounding than that from a telephone, computer, or television. Often the abnormal sound is due to the stimulation of an ear that hasn't heard for many years (or an ear that has never heard). If this occurs, it typically dissipates with continued use of the CI and the stimulation of auditory pathways. Signal processing technology also continues to advance at a rapid rate, allowing for personalized programming for the best hearing outcomes, and—especially with any neural changes with age—programming is important to do at regular intervals.

Cosmetic
The thin internal portion of the CI is designed to sit flush with the skull and is not visible. The visible external components (the battery, sound processor, microphone, and transmitting coil) mostly fit behind the ear, not much larger than a standard behind-the-ear hearing aid. The latest sound processors are self-contained in a single unit about the size of a half dollar coin. These “off-the-ear” processors do not have an over-the-ear component, but rest directly over the magnet that is behind the ear and within the hairline. Eventually we expect that all implanted systems will be compatible with these smaller, off-the-ear processors, and nanotechnology and battery miniaturization will further reduce processor size. (And, the
boom in wearable consumer technology makes visible devices even more mainstream.)

Fear of discomfort
Implantation incisions behind the ear heal quickly, and the drilling of the bone required to place the
implant is a simple mastoidectomy. It is a component of most ear procedures and is not painful. Our center performs over 1,200 mastoidectomies per year across various different ear procedures. Postoperative discomfort is a rare complication and easily managed with over-the-counter medications such as acetaminophen (Tylenol).

Do You Qualify?
If you have a hearing loss that prevents you from talking on the phone without visual cues (such as needing video calls or caption calling); are unable to understand television programs without closed captioning; and/or are actively avoiding large group gatherings for fear of conversational difficulty, talk to your hearing healthcare professional to see if you may be a CI candidate. CIs are the most successful sensory restoration prostheses to date and have been successfully placed in more than half a million individuals worldwide. The wonders of this technology vastly improve hearing, speech understanding, and overall quality of life.  

René H. Gifford, Ph.D, CCC-A, is a professor in the department of hearing and speech sciences with a joint appointment in the department of otolaryngology at Vanderbilt University, Tennessee. She and HHF medical director David S. Haynes, M.D., FACS, direct the Cochlear Implant Program at the Vanderbilt Bill Wilkerson Center.

This article also appeared in the Fall 2018 issue of Hearing Health. For references, see hhf.org/fall2018-references.

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Flying My Way

By Ryan Vlazny

Airplanes and learning about their mechanisms have always made me feel alive. My longtime fascination with all things aerospace inspired my desire to work with computers for a living. But, at times, my hearing and vision loss caused some turbulence.

I was born profoundly deaf and later diagnosed with Usher syndrome―which combines deafness, retinitis pigmentosa (progressive vision loss), and problems with balance―at 8 years old.

Lucky for me, Usher lets me enjoy roller coaster rides with a perspective different than people with typical hearing and vision. I can more acutely feel the car’s ascent up the hill, the hang time at the top, the speed on the drops, the toggling back and forth on the track, and all the loops and twists in between. These sensations are most fun when I ride an inverted coaster―like my first “serious” ride in Oslo, Norway―with the track above me and my feet hanging in the air. I feel like I am flying.

My parents, heavily involved in the Deaf community, decided I’d learn Signing Exact English (SEE)―a manual communication system that, unlike ASL, matches English language and vocabulary―in place of spoken language. By the time I was in the eighth grade, I was fully emerged in mainstream classes, thanks to my parents’ commitment to my language development, and had undergone cochlear implantation. While I cannot understand spoken language with my cochlear implants (CIs), they allow me to hear laughter, birds, music, and the roar of a rollercoaster.

A few years after my CI surgery, airplanes replaced my passion for roller coasters. For my 17th birthday, I had the thrill of riding in an Pitts aerobatic airplane at the airport in Pompano Beach. The 20-minute charter ride felt like being on a roller coaster ride with 4,000 foot drops above the Everglades. The pilot, Jim, did a tricks that felt similar vertical loops on a roller coaster.

My mom and I took an (ordinary) airplane ride to Tallahassee when it was time for me to take the Florida Comprehensive Assessment Test (FCAT), a requirement to graduate high school in the state. There we spoke with government officials about making the test optional for students with hearing loss, and we were successful. Still, after three tries, I passed the FCAT even though the requirement had been eliminated.

For the remainder of high school I continued on track, taking advantage of computer-related courses like web design and engineering. I was accepted to the Pre-Baccalaureate Engineering Program at the National Technical Institute for the Deaf at Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT), where I enrolled with a major in mechanical engineering concentrating in aerospace. Some math classes, especially differential equations, were too difficult, and with the support of my advisor, I changed my major to information technology (IT). Unlike with engineering, I felt I was able to fully understand and apply the concepts of IT.

As an IT student, I created a greeting card in Adobe Flash, a multimedia software program, about greeting a new student on my make-believe RIT World Airlines. The greeting card was even commended by the university president, Dr. William Destler in a one-on-one meeting.

Few college experiences compare with my opportunity to build my own airplane game in an application development class, though. The game simulated landing a plane, which other students found fun to play. Even though I wasn’t an aerospace student, I still got to enjoy some exciting plane rides at RIT.

Today I work as a Java developer for a financial technology firm, where I couldn’t be happier. I’m proud to be the pilot of my own career.

BIO: Ryan W. Vlazny lives in Pennsylvania.

Helping Myself to Help Others

By Ryan Brown

My hearing loss was identified around the time I started kindergarten. I started asking “what?” a lot, and I didn’t always respond to those around me. Some of my teachers thought I was ignoring them or missing instructions on purpose. At home I began to sit closer to the TV with the volume up high.

Subtle behaviors like this in a child can sometimes go undetected, much like those of a student who struggles because he can’t read the board in the classroom. Thankfully, a teacher finally noticed that I was reading her lips and recommended that I see a speech-language pathologist. Eventually, I was referred to an audiologist, Sheila Klein, Au.D. She diagnosed me with moderate to severe bilateral hearing loss, most likely caused by recurrent ear infections when I was younger.

My mom distinctly remembers leaving Dr. Klein’s office with my new hearing aids. After we walked out the door into the parking lot, I took a few steps, stopped and looked around, then walked a few more. This was the first time I heard my jacket make a whoosh sound as I moved. I spent a lot of time that day hearing new things I had never noticed before.

Soon after that, Dr. Klein came to visit my school. She explained to my classmates what it means to have a hearing loss and why I needed hearing aids. I really appreciate this gesture  because it encouraged my classmates to be more accepting of someone who was different than them.

One of my favorite hobbies is music, and hearing aids have been instrumental to helping me understand and practice it. I enjoy creating electronic songs using a production software called Ableton, which provides a means of arranging music as well as a visual representations of sound waves. This tool is crucial because there are certain frequencies I simply cannot hear, and people without hearing loss may hear harsh noises that disrupt the sound I was aiming for. This feature allows me to filter those sounds out visually. Without my hearing aids, I would have a hard time noticing these details in the final product.

I am in my third year of medical school, pursuing a career in Emergency Medicine. I spend most of my days assisting and learning from physicians at hospitals and clinics. The purpose of this training is to eventually be able to practice and treat patients on my own.

My aspiration to work in medicine came about during junior year of high school, when I sought help from my local Vocational Rehabilitation (VR) office. VR counselors provide career assistance to people with disabilities. Medicine requires one to use a stethoscope, so the VR counselors found an electronic stethoscope and headphones I could fit over my hearing aids. The headphones can be confusing for patients sometimes, but they understand once I start listening to their heart and lungs.

I’ve really enjoyed learning about the art and science of medicine. Problem solving and building a trustworthy relationship with a patient are crucial skills which I will continue to develop for the rest of my life.

The impact my hearing aids have had in my development cannot be understated, but communication is still difficult at times even with them in. I have learned to be patient and understand that not everyone knows what it’s like to have hearing loss or wear devices like hearing aids. Sometimes there is a need for others to speak up or face me so that I can read their lips, especially in crowded places. Having to overcome challenges like this has instilled an important trait that is essential in medicine: empathy.

Ryan William Brown is a student at the University of North Dakota School of Medicine.