My original plan for this entry was to go into more detail on how I approach everyday life living with a hearing deficiency. However my recent trip to Leeds to see a friend brought up one of the side effects of my hearing that I often forget about, when entering a bar that served beer and pizza. (Hunger and lots of stairs had worked up an appetite – eating is not cheating)

Upon entry to the pizza and beer place I’d had around 5 beers spread out over several hours between playing foot golf, climbing several flights of stairs to a bar with a slight roof terrace, climbing more stairs to another bar with a proper roof terrace, and entering a bar which was a clear throwback to the 90’s (cash payment only – so inconvenient in 2019).

The doorman to the pizza and beer place who is just doing his job asked me where I had been that evening as I looked like I’d had a few. I am terrible at remembering names of places and couldn’t remember where we’d been (whilst writing this I have remembered I actually posted and Instagram story from one of the bars including tagging in the location!) After a moment or two I was able to describe where I had been. The man on the door didn’t look convinced. One of my friends poked his head out the door to ask what was going on. Then off the cuff told the door man that I was deaf in one ear and it had an adverse effect on my balance, and that even sober I can’t walk in a straight line. Within seconds I was in, in the queue ordering pizza and a beer.

By this point I had got very conscious of my movements and how I would be perceived so I decided that I wasn’t going to draw any more attention to myself and sit in a corner quietly, enjoy my beer pizza and good company. Only once before had a friend stepped in and used my hearing to get me into Snobs (an absolute institution and part of the fabric of Birmingham, which has never been the same since it moved, and I passed 30).

My plan was going so well until nature called and I needed the loo. Getting up, I told myself “Matt concentrate and don’t look wasted”. This is just like saying after a heavy night out you’ll come into the house/flat quietly, it doesn’t work.

Successfully navigated stairs (again) and people to go the loo. On my way back to my seat I get tapped on the shoulder by another bouncer and asked to leave because I was swaying a lot ( I’d had another half a pint on top of what I’d already had).  I thought that I wasn’t having this and took a leaf out of my friend’s book and told this bouncer the same thing as the doorman. He wanted to check with the doormen, I don’t blame him; it sounds a pretty elaborate well practiced story. Add that to me being mildly annoyed and distressed to be asked to leave and explain myself again. The guys on the door confirmed the story and I was free to go on my way again.

The friend that helped me out for round one saw that I was annoyed and upset (I’d messaged him saying I hated using my disability as any form of excuse – he told me to behave). He rationalised things for me by telling me the bouncers/doormen were just doing their job, and how were they supposed to know? They can’t see any disability on me; use this experience as your next blog entry.

So here I am sat in his kitchen the morning after, Lucozade in hand (hangover prevention) headphones on doing just that. I also couldn’t sleep and have been awake since half 6 as one of my friends sounds like a freight train when he snores, and no one else is awake.

What happened at the pizza and beer place (I don’t remember the name and probably never will unless I go back there) didn’t ruin the evening at all but it has brought to my mind a couple of things to reflect upon.

Hearing and balance are much more intertwined than I thought.

My parents tell me that when I was about 18months to 2years old they got very concerned that I fell over far too much. Upon advice from the GP they were asked to count how many times a day over a period of a couple of weeks. I’m told that this got up to 100+ times on one particular day. The GP advised my parents that my sense of balance and coordination was underdeveloped and that I needed to do certain exercises to help correct this. My fond memories of a blue and yellow scooter come as a result of those exercises I was given to help improve my balance and coordination. It’s not perfect as I can’t walk in a straight line sober and randomly trip over my own feet for no reason whatsoever. My parents also came up with a brilliant reason for my trips and falls, they invented “fresh air sticks”. Note I don’t fall over fresh air sticks anymore, and despite still not being 100% balanced it did take until I was 28 and playing football after a couple of beers to break a bone.

Alcohol clearly doesn’t help this, and on occasion this unbalanced look is more pronounced. 

In my last post I described the basics of what doesn’t work in my one ear. The impact of what is going on in my inner ear would seem to have a direct effect on my balance which is also controlled deep within the inner ear.

The experience in Leeds isn’t going to change how much I drink in future, I get pretty rough hangovers as it is which is enough of a deterrent from overdoing it on a night out anyway. I also like to remember my nights out more often than not, and get bored of drinking by a certain point on a night out. 

My second reflection is that I am still learning to accept people’s perceptions of me and having a hidden disability. 

My disability is hidden with no obvious sign of what or where it is. I can’t wear a hearing aid, and it would make no difference to me whatsoever. As much as I was upset and annoyed at having to explain my disability and use it as a reason to explain my state, I don’t hold anything against the doormen I came across in Leeds. 

I’m so used to my friends and family that know treating me no differently to anyone else. The whole name of this blog comes from having to tell friends when we’re out that they’re talking into the wrong ear and then laughing about it. Their treating me as no different to anyone else is a comfort and testament to them. However I expect 99.9% of people to treat me the same way, so explaining what I have to people is extremely hard, because I don’t want to be treated any differently.

When I’ve had to tell strangers to help resolve a situation like entering a bar, complaining about the TV is too loud, or tell someone to speak up because I can’t hear them. I am always surprised by the responses I get, and I get one of 3 general responses.

1. The surprise followed by a very British sorry, awkward laugh, and sharply disappearing and avoiding me at all costs.
2. The surprise followed by over compensation, over concern and making the biggest deal possible of it. 
3. The acceptance, a few questions about it and how best to subtly adjust so things appear as normal as possible.

I get the second response the most; I would much prefer the third response. So I never know how to tell people to increase those chances of getting the third response, and having to explain off the cuff is incredibly difficult for me to do, having friends that can do that for me is great.

Writing this down and explaining this way I hope will begin to change people’s perceptions so I get more of the response I prefer, and get more comfortable with being open about my hearing.