Talking 24/7

And, we're back (again)!

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 13:54:00 +0000

Unintentionally, I took the summer off from this blog. Here's a recap:

Hadley finished third grade, which was an overwhelmingly positive year. Caring and compassionate teachers make all the difference, and she had that in abundance. Despite crazy childhood illnesses keeping her from school a whopping 17 days (!!), I'd say it was her best school year yet.
Summer 2011 was devoted to amusement parks (Hershey Park and Dutch Wonderland in Pennsylvania and our more local favorites, Story Land and Santa's Village in New Hampshire). Hadley tested the water resiliency of the Naida in some of the tamer water rides like log flume roller coasters (no problem), but stuck to her water aids for water park rides like wave pools. She also opted to remove her hearing aids on fast rollercoasters at Hershey Park on the off chance they'd fall out. Next time, we may bring our old, trusty SafeNSound straps to better secure them.
When we weren't away, we were either at the beach, in a pool, or playing in water, somewhere. Hadley's water aids got a workout this summer! Each aid is at least eight years old now, and I'm not sure how much more we can eke out of them. We live in a beach community, so having great access to sound in wet conditions is vital for Hadley. We'll have to make some decisions in the coming year.
Thanks to this blog and referrals from AVT professionals, I had a chance to talk and email with other AVT parents from all over the world. It's fun to connect with other families, especially those with young children still in regular therapy sessions.
While I wasn't writing here, you can read what I was up to.

We're now back to school, adjusting to new schedules, new teachers, new activities and new expectations. Things are good!

A Blast from the Past

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Sun, 12 Jun 2011 17:53:00 +0000

Hadley and I dropped in on an AVT session this week, joining another family with two school aged HOH children who switched to auditory-verbal therapy this year. It's been more than four years since Hadley's last official AVT session; I was excited to return and Hadley was a little apprehensive. She remembers many details of her weekly visits with Lea, Jim and, later, Carrie, but was somewhat nervous of being judged or graded! It took only seconds for her to shake it off and get back into action...the girl does love to impress, after all.

We had never officially met this therapist before, so it was interesting to me to see her style and approach toward older kids. AVT is family-centered therapy, and I've always felt it important for the therapist to be more of a friendly supporter of the family than an instructor of the child. This is especially true when the meeting is taking place after a long day at school. I love then the child is included in the plans for the session, and liked how the therapist pulled out the previously agreed upon AVT goals and shared them with her student. Almost 10 year old girls can be a tricky audience, but the activities they did were all on target with their interests and kept their attention. I was impressed!

Halfway through the session, when the girls were doing an auditory memory exercise involving listening to and repeating back a complex sentence, I suddenly realized that this was the first time in a while that I was sitting at a table and completely focused on Hadley's words. Sure, we talk a lot, but that's often while driving in a car, over a meal with two preschoolers, or in the midst of errands or chores. Even when I'm "listening" to her, I'm often multi-thinking, going over the things I need to do, noticing stuff that needs to be put away, or remembering some long-lost thought and desperately trying to retain it. This time, I was really listening to her words to see how accurate her speech discrimination and memory retention was (pretty accurate!). It was a good reminder to me to make sure I'm that focused on her more frequently, when her words are actually more important than a repetition of an American Girls article.

My other takeaway from the session is how glad I am that we've always focused on strengthening Hadley's listening and speech discrimination skills in all environments, not just quiet situations. This is something we did in AVT sessions from the very, very beginning and it's stuck with us (despite other professionals in the hearing loss field instructing us to restrict environmental noises, like the dishwasher, air conditioner, or washing machine, as much as possible). Background noise exists in the regular world and there won't always be a soundfield system or other additional technology to make things easier for her. Hadley's not 100% in these adverse hearing situations, but then again no person is, regardless of hearing status.

When we transitioned out of our regular weekly AVT sessions, I was somewhat apprehensive of giving up the safety net of regular contact of a trusted professional. I worried that we might miss signs of Hadley regressing or facing difficult situations. Over the five years, I've lost those fears and have felt confident in our ability to build upon her early AVT foundation. Seeing Hadley in action this week confirmed that all for me. I'd strongly recommend anyone who has "graduated" from regular sessions to take a trip back sometime. I can't wait to crash a session again!

As the World Turns

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Tue, 17 May 2011 01:21:00 +0000

When Hadley was first born, I never thought there would be days when I would forget that she lived with a hearing loss. But, sure enough, one day I realized that I hadn't yet thought about her hearing aids or hearing status. We were just living life and rolling with it.

Not one to document all of life's little moments, there were still many times when Hadley would say or do something so extraordinary (or, to be honest, so outrageous) that I'd think to myself, "Oh, I'll never forget this. No need to write it down." I've since forgotten a bunch of them (which is okay, because there are always new moments being made).

Yet, with all of these stories, I never once imagined that I'd forget any of the technical details about Hadley's hearing loss: the nuts and bolts of her audiogram, her hearing history, her hearing aid specifications. These are the absolutes of her life that are basically tattooed onto my brain. I use these facts constantly with educators, professionals and other parents. It just can't be possible for me to ever forget, right?

Last week, while searching for an old hearing aid to temporarily replace her current one that was in need of repair, I found myself trying to remember which were her last hearing aids. Were they the brown Trianos? The purple Centras? How could I possibly not recall this? And if I'm forgetting these details after just nine years, what will I forget in the next nine?

Hadley's fantastic AV therapist sent me a puzzling message on May 5, asking me if I had snapped many pictures on Cinco de Mayo. Why would I do that? Hours later, I recalled that for five years, I took pictures of Hadley all through the day to create a day-in-the-life-of-Hadley experience book. These books took hours to create and were read and reread constantly (and are now tucked away on a bookshelf in our office). I talked to other parents about how fun it was to make these books and how useful they were as a therapy tool. How could I have forgotten?

Meanwhile, Hadley's back up hearing aid has been in my wallet for two weeks. I keep meaning to put it safely away in its container until the next hearing aid malfunction, but other things (broken washing machine, rescheduled dentist appointments, a gazillion kids activities) get in the way. I'm compulsive about cashing even the smallest checks right away, to avoid having them fall out of my wallet, but I've been walking around with 3K worth of tiny technology in there. I used to always have at least a one month's supply of batteries on hand for her hearing aids, plus spare packs in my bag, the car, and her backpack...we have a single lone battery, total, right now. What is going on with me?!

A friend further down this path (her hard-of-hearing kids are in high school and college) reminded me that this is all okay. We're living a typical busy family life, one that happens to include extra details related to hearing loss. Some days these details are very, very important. Other days, not so much. Luckily, right now our focus is on the final weeks of the school year (June 22!), spring sports (softball and golf), and making plans with family and friends. As weird as it is to say this, hearing loss is taking a back seat right now...and that's okay with all of us.

****************
I know, nearly two months without a post. What happened? Well, the kids swapped viruses for most of March and April and finally shared them with me, giving me the gift of pneumonia. We've been making up the lost weeks of school work and building up our energy so we can enjoy the spring and summer...if it ever arrives here in the Northeast!

Facebook and "Special Education Week"

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 22:48:00 +0000

If you're on Facebook, chances are you've seen variations of this over the last year or two:

"People need to understand that children with special needs don't have an illness, they are not looking for a cure, only acceptance. 93% of you probably won't copy and paste this! Will you be in the 7% that will and leave it up as your status for one hour? It's Special Education Week!"

This has bugged me since the first day I read it, but I'm finally getting around to blogging about it. Here's a newsflash, folks: there is no "Special Education Week." You probably already figured that out, since this status appears from time to time throughout the year. Not a big deal, I agree.
But this line gets me every time: "they are not looking for a cure, only acceptance." Guess what, folks: they want that, too! They want a cure! Really, really, they do!

Sure, acceptance is great: most kids forget that Hadley has hearing aids on her head. (Until the teacher has them write nice things about their peers. Then Hadley receives 20+ comments about how well she listens.) Classmates jump at the chance to use the microphone with the soundfield system or turn the speaker off; they all love reminding the teacher that the lapel mic is still on. Every once in a while, someone may tease, but that's been pretty isolated so far.

Acceptance is fine... but Hadley still feels different. Yes, she does really well: her speech is great; she reads incredibly well; she advocates for herself; she's a good student. But feeling accepted by her peers doesn't change the fact that her life is different than a typical 9 year old girl. It might make things easier sometimes, but it doesn't change facts.

Adults have a different version of acceptance: pretending the difference doesn't exist or minimizing the challenges that Hadley faces every day. I've had school team meetings where I've spent more time explaining the real obstacles Hadley encounters than determining appropriate services and accommodations. In their haste to show their acceptance, sometimes adults rush a conversation with their assurances of understanding, declaring that they know exactly what I mean and thereby missing the message entirely. And, yes, sometimes adults tease (it's not funny to say to me, "What is she, deaf?") or are completely inappropriate (like the parent who, at the integrated preschool open house, leaned over and whispered to me, "I hear there's a deaf girl in the class. That's not good.")

Yes: acceptance is all fine and dandy. Knowing that nearly all the people Hadley meets will try, in some form or another, to learn a little about her and understand her is fantastic. All kids need that kind of safety net in their lives. No, we don't live under an umbrella of naivete that there will be a cure for Connexin 26 related hearing loss...but that doesn't mean we don't want one.

So, next time you're tempted to be one of the 1, 3, 7, or whatever incalculable % of Facebook users to update about Whatever Week for acceptance, think for a moment and, if you really must paste and post, take a moment to edit your copy to include the word "cure." Quite honestly, we want both: for everyone around our children to be welcoming, friendly, and understanding of all their needs, special or not. Just because these particular kids wound up with an unexpected twist of genes doesn't mean we limit ourselves (or them) to mere acceptance. It's okay to hope for a cure, whether its within the realm of possibility or not. We do.

The Friend Connection

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Mon, 07 Mar 2011 03:46:00 +0000

Finding other families with hard-of-hearing children seemed like such an important thing to do when Hadley was younger. It was obviously helpful to me, as I shared my ideas and complaints with other parents who understood the not-so-obvious challenges of raising a child with a hearing loss. I took it for granted that some day Hadley would want to know other kids who listen to the world through hearing aids. In our years of auditory-verbal therapy, we overlapped our sessions to meet other children and their families. This was great for me and Hadley liked it too, but there was nothing special or unique about her interactions with other kids. They were simply kids playing with kids, just with a few thousand dollars worth of technology on their heads.

We happen to live in an area with several other mainstreamed hard-of-hearing children, all of whom are being raised to listen and speak with their voices. I thought now that Hadley was older, she might seek these kids out or benefit from some regular contact with them. Hadley really likes them all, and I've loved getting to know the parents, but there is nothing special or unique about her interactions with these kids. They are simply kids playing with kids, just with a few thousand dollars worth of technology on their heads. (Are you sensing a theme?)

Earlier this winter, I was asked to speak to another mom in the area and answer some questions about auditory-verbal therapy for her daughter. Who is also 9. Who was also identified at birth with a hearing loss. Who also wears hearing aids. Who also is spirited, outgoing, talkative and dramatic. We agreed to introduce the girls to each other, and I really though it would be just like before: they'd meet, they'd have a good time, they'd go home.

What passed over the following two hours was straight out of a movie. They immediately checked out each other's hearing aids (and clothes). Hadley and E compared trials and tribulations of living life with a hearing loss (and compared favorite music and toys). They unconsciously repeated words and rephrased sentences if the other misheard or misunderstood what was said. It occurred to me that Hadley was displaying the truest version of herself to E. The thin, protective wall that often exists while playing with other kids wasn't there.

Now, some people might read that statement as a reason for like to stay with like: that schools and communities for the deaf and hard-of-hearing provide environments for these kids to be their natural selves. Instead, I took this experience as a way for Hadley to further understand how she can hang out and play with all of her friends. We talked a bit about how it felt to meet E, if they played differently with each other, how they handled sharing and decision-making...and how Hadley could use these same strategies with any friend. Hadley and E have played together and emailed a bunch of times since first meeting in December. Each time, they talk less and less about their shared hearing loss and more and more about their other shared interests. Their friendship continues because of all these "others"; the hearing loss may have initiated their meeting, but their personalities will shape and define their relationship with one another.

So, no, I really don't think Hadley needs hard-of-hearing friends now any more than she did in the past. Certainly, this might change as she grows older and I'm open to that possibility. What has remained a constant is that I still need to know parents of hard-of-hearing kids. I learn so much from their experiences and bouncing ideas off of like-minded adults. Since I'll continue to seek out these parents who are committed to raising their kids to listen and speak, I know that door to making new friendships will always exist for Hadley as well.

In the end, hearing loss or no hearing loss, it's still pretty awesome to make a really good new friend. I have a feeling this is just the first of many more pictures to be taken of these two.

Why baby classes matter

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 21:48:00 +0000

I'll say it again: music was a huge influence in Hadley's language development from a very early age. Not only did I want to replicate that experience for my sons, I wanted them to know "Teacher", the woman (Sarah) behind this amazing music class.

Conor and Brady began attending the weekly Kodaly class when they were about 18 months old and I felt that was already late, as Hadley began at one year. From the start, Conor and Brady had dramatically different reactions to the experience. Brady was fully absorbed in the class: listening intently to the music, following Teacher, observing the older children, and mimicking hand gestures. In contrast, Conor couldn't wait for the class to end. The music was familiar to both of them, as we had listened to a CD of the class countless times. Of the two, Conor spent more time at home listening to and creating his own music out of our collection of instruments. He clearly loved music, but on his own terms.

Yet, week after week, I kept going with both boys, waiting for that day when it all came together. Year one passed...then two. While Conor's ability to stick with the class increased over time, he never once sat and participated for a class in its entirety. He knew the routine, stayed for the parts he enjoyed, left the circle when he grew disinterested, and returned to the group as his interest returned. Some activities he actively avoided, others he rushed back to join, so there was a predictable pattern to his behavior. At home, he sang all the songs and repeated many of the games, demonstrating that he was an active listener to the entire class, whether he was participating or sitting on the sidelines. He loved going to Teacher's house for Hadley's private piano lessons. Yet, each week Conor complained about going to his own music class.

Year three began last fall, and I'll admit that I was hesitant to sign them up. Let's face it: all of these activities require precious time, energy and money. We had already spent two years trying to make this work. I replicated most of the class at home, to the best of my ability. Was it time to admit defeat? I decided to give it one more class...and that was the class when it all, finally, came together.

Who knows what combination of factors finally caused Conor to sit and actively participate. Maybe it was his age (3 3/4 years). Or that he had just started preschool and was getting used to following group activities. Or he forgot over the summer break from class that he used to not participate. Whatever it was, Conor sang each and every word of each and every verse in each and every song. He sat and sang along to books. He sought out his favorite instruments. He grabbed a blanket and lay down to listen Teacher's lullabies. He sang out his goodbye. Looking at him, you'd never know that this boy had been a bystander for the previous 50 classes.

But Conor doesn't have a hearing loss-- why am I telling this story? Every parent of a hard of hearing child will tell you about living through plateaus: those long periods of time where your child doesn't show amazing progress, growth or improvement. Trusted professionals, after confirming that there's nothing else impeding development, tell you to wait it out and just keep doing what you're doing-- but that's so hard to do when there's no proof to those efforts. Plateaus exist for all people, and the message is always the same: keep on working at it, because those efforts will finally pay off.

I've had many conversations about why I should have stopped music class, why babies can't be expected to participate at this level, that it's unfair to push a child in an activity that is not enjoyed. I've had friends try this class and, exhausted after one hour of chasing down their toddler, announce that they'll try again when the child is older, that it's a waste of money otherwise, that it's too hard. Had I believed any of that, Conor would have started class again at square one, not knowing the songs, the routine, the structure, or the expectations. My actions would have suggested to my children that attendance at activities is only supported when participation is practically perfect.

Early exposure does make a difference. Continued exposure reduces lag time and gaps... whether we're talking language development or music appreciation.

Conor during instrument time, February 2011

The space and time to talk

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Wed, 09 Feb 2011 16:14:00 +0000

In one of our early AVT sessions, Lea and I (and my father, who was attending the session) got to talking about babies and babbling. Lea stressed the importance of letting babies play and practice with sounds without the distraction or interference of adults. At the time, Hadley was about nine months old and, while she happily responded to sound and voices, she wasn't really playing with different sounds. Sure, she made sounds and altered the pitch and volume of her voice, but that was about it. Lea shared a simple observation that babies at the current time (this was 2002) spent less time on their own than in earlier times when infants were left for short periods in playpens. While she never said, "Kerry, place Hadley in a playpen for 20 minutes every morning and afternoon", her comments prompted me to consider how to balance surrounding Hadley with language with giving Hadley the chance to explore her sounds.

As many first-time parents, I had several firm opinions about how I'd raise my child, and being playpen free was one of them. Not only did the baby books I loved disapprove, but some of my earliest memories involve being on the "freedom" side of a homemade play enclosure, built for a family member who was confined for medical reasons. My dad and I spent much of the 90 minute car ride home talking about playpens, gates, and play spaces. Ultimately, I heightened my awareness of times when Hadley was involved in her own play, forcing myself to sit back and watch instead of inserting myself into her games.

Now, watching my 4 year old twins develop and explore their language, I'm reminded of Lea's advice to take a step back and observe. Conor and Brady have a rich vocabulary, but their articulation needs work. They've both been evaluated and both are developmentally on target, they simply need more time. I repeat their words, modeling the proper pronunciation. We play sound games to help correct their speech. But I resist the temptation to jump in and disrupt their play, especially in the middle of their elaborate role playing and fantasy games.

Conor, especially, loves to make up stories when he draws. He spends long periods of time with one piece of paper, coloring with markers, crayons, pencils. He talks the whole time. By the end of each day, the floor under the art table is covered with paper scraps. They all look pretty much the same:

Without seeing him in action, you'd think these are simply scribbles. You might comment on the waste of paper, the clean up, the marker on the floor, the broken crayons littering the table. But each and every one is a complex story, all of his own invention. This morning, I wrote down his words as he drew this:

"Fire, fire! There's a fire! Call 9-1-1! The firefighters race to the building. We need trucks! Get hoses! A firefighter rushes to the scene. Emergency! Here's a fire chief. We need a ladder! Get the aerial ladder! It goes up and up and up to get the people. Hey! They are stuck on the roof. Get the helicopter to come and get them. Whirrrrrrrrr. Now they are gone. Water! Water! Whoosh, whoosh. The fire is out."

His words are proof that he retains stories that we read out loud together, the facts he has learned from books, the images that accompany the action. It's all there in his memory, and he's taking all that knowledge and making it his own, both on paper and with his voice. Sure, I could sit with him and draw a decent fire station, truck, burning building and rescue workers, something that we could later hang on the fridge and admire, but the dialogue wouldn't come close to what Conor accomplishes alone.

Kids need the space and time to talk it out, to link words and ideas together, to practice all those ideas they've overheard. Conor and I can sit down at any other time and spell his name, practice writing letters, color in pictures...but nothing is better than letting him loose with $5 worth of paper and art supplies.

When it pays to be an AVT kid

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Sat, 22 Jan 2011 13:46:00 +0000

Some people struggle to understand the difference between auditory-verbal therapy and other oral methods to develop spoken language in deaf and hard of hearing children. Even professionals in audiology and education have questioned why our kids need something other than speech services. I've always maintained that my daughter's hearing loss has nothing to do with what comes out of her mouth (what a speech language pathologist addresses) but is centered around what goes into her ears and processed by her brain.

With auditory-verbal therapy, Hadley learned how to maximize her hearing through careful listening and speech discrimination. We kept our expectations high as she began to talk, put words together, followed simple commands, then more complex requests. We talked in quiet rooms, but also in larger groups, crowds, restaurants, outside, at the playground, at the beach, in the car. We listened to sounds around us: household sounds, animals, instruments, music, construction, and weather. As she grew older, we expected more: just as one would with a typical child.

Part of my motivation to put so much language into Hadley from a very young age was out of concern that she would lose more hearing in her grade school years (something the research supported, at the time). As she experienced complications, through medical problems like ear infections to technology failures with hearing aids, I realized the importance of giving her the needed skills to continue to communicate with the whole world during these episodes. It's hard, but her ability to attend school and activities during these times is a direct result of the auditory-verbal tools she has developed (and continues to fine-tune).

In the nine years we have been in the AVT world, we have met some amazing friends and families who live and breathe AVT as we do. Several of their children are experiencing significant complications right now with their hearing that will likely require surgery in the very near future and follow up therapy. These AVT kids rely more than ever on their careful listening, attention to cues, and ability to discern and decipher speech sounds...and they can do it because they've been pushing themselves this whole time. AVT kids prepare like extreme runners: they learn the basics, then continue to push themselves to improve, listen more closely, and understand more complex speech more quickly. We know it's not easy, even though they make it seem so effortless, and are thinking of G, J and O as they are forced into this very unexpected marathon.

F-U-N-D

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 21:39:00 +0000

"Mom, I know some really bad words...but I don't use them."

"There are some different bad words out there. It's good to know them, and know not to use them. What are some that you've heard?"

"This one is so bad, I can't even say it. I'll spell it." (hides head under covers) "f-u..."

("Oh, I guess she does know this one", I think to myself).

"n-d!"

("Hmmm...guess she doesn't!").

It takes a hearing loss to turn a simple rite of passage, like learning swear words, into a lesson in listening and speech discrimination! Hadley is still such an innocent that the worst words we hear in our house are along the lines of "stupid" and "meanie". Up until now, she's typically learned bad words through books ("Damminit!" she muttered one day as she hit her head while getting in the car. "What word was that, Hadley?" "Harry Potter said it."). Our conversations have focused more on being appropriate and proper pronunciation ("The /n/ in 'damn' is silent, Hadley.") But "f-u-n-d"... this one required some further investigation.

I'm still not exactly sure what transpired, but it appears a friend shared the word with Hadley in a typical "what swears do you know?" conversation. Hadley couldn't hear her friend very well (this happened at lunch), and was relying on contextual clues to fill in the gaps. She heard the first sound of the word, flipped through her internal file of known vocabulary, and decided that 'fund' was the swear. She didn't want to risk asking her friend to repeat the word, in fear of being overheard by an adult (so she had heard enough of the conversation to infer that this conversation was headed into dangerous territory). I'm still not entirely convinced the friend herself knew the actual swear, but I gathered enough information to determine that Hadley used the skills she had to the best of her ability to follow along...and yes, to even contribute another word to their lesson in profanity. (Which she knew! Correctly!).

Hadley now knows that the F-bomb isn't a trust fund or mutual fund. Maybe her hearing misled her, perhaps her friend did think that "FUND!!" is what people yell out in anger or exasperation, and possibly it's a combination of the two. At least she won't be telling anyone to "fund off" or "shut the fund up"...whether that way or in its proper form. And I've suggested that the next time she wants to sit down and have a nice chat about all the more colorful words in the English language, she do so off of school property.

A new 'do!

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 22:22:00 +0000

Girls these days have a new rite of passage: making a donation of hair for use in wigs. It seems like every month, there's a new friend who is sporting a short hair cut. Hadley deliberated for months and finally made the decision this week to cut it off. Two years of growing ended in seconds as the nearly foot-long ponytail was cut. Hadley decided to donate her hair to Locks of Love, a non-profit organization that provides free and reduced cost hairpieces to children with longterm hair loss, especially alopecia. Her donation is being sent in recognition of a family member with alopecia.

Way to go, Hadley!

The balancing act

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 16:48:00 +0000

There's no getting around it: living life with a hearing loss wears you out. It takes extra energy and effort to process complex language, identify the important sounds over the background babble, and fill in any gaps with contextual or visual clues. Despite the fact that this is the only life Hadley knows, it's still draining: even a long distance runner is exhausted at the end of a long run. There's only so much endurance a person can build.

A challenge is balancing Hadley's energy level with the abundance of activities that are available to kids her age. I am a firm believer in participating in sports and other popular activities when they are new to everyone, and Hadley loves trying out new programs (with a healthy amount of apprehension). Problem is, there are dozens from which to choose! Every few months, we contemplate new activities and weigh them against those she already enjoys or does with friends. It's the normal juggling act all parents do (When will homework be completed? What days are free? Who will drive? How much does it cost? What has to give?), but with the added complication of factoring in Hadley's endurance and energy. I know that if Hadley has a team sport one day, she needs to have the next day be very low key. I've learned that "quiet" activities, like art class, can be scheduled anytime during the week. I've realized that programs that require active listening are best done on Mondays, when she is most rested. Piano lessons are best early in the morning, but the special relationship she has with her teacher is so important that we squeeze in this time as we can. Above all, by 5PM, Hadley's energy is pretty much depleted, having put in a nearly 11-hour day by then. While Hadley's endurance improves as she grows older and develops the skills and strength to manage her day, the expectations rise as well: homework increases; language is more complex; teaching and learning is more auditory-based. What works for her now may not be the case next year. Just when I think we've discovered the best school-activity-life balance, her needs change.

So, the balancing act continues. This winter, Hadley asked to try some new after-school activities, and we agreed to add one film-making class. We're testing out her ability to do something later in the day with ice skating lessons. The next six weeks will be a little busier than usual for her, so we'll see how it goes and adjust as necessary.

Preparing to be left behind

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 20:30:00 +0000

Of all the things we prepare ourselves for (ear infections; technology failure; further hearing loss), the one thing that can suddenly surprise a family is when a member of the support team leaves. It can take a long time to build these relationships and trust professionals, for both the parents and children. Once that trust is in place, it's hard to imagine not relying on the team-- harder still to convince yourself that the same level of confidence can exist with someone else.

Over the last nine years, we've had people come and go from Hadley's team due to job change, relocation, medical leave, sabbatical and retirement. In most cases, we've had plenty of advance notice to make our plans and have transitioned pretty seamlessly. We've been fortunate to expand the team to include some really great professionals who have only improved the level of service to Hadley. Here's what has worked for us:

1. We have always worked with professionals who focus on pediatrics within a larger practice that has a commitment to pediatrics. When people have left for other jobs, the practice has hired new professionals with a similar level of knowledge about serving children.

2. We always ask the question, "If we can't see you, who do you recommend in your absence?". A regular audiologist or ENT isn't always available for last minute appointments, so it's always good to have a relationship with someone else in the office. When a leave has been announced, we've always had a fall back person already in place.

3. All good therapies should come to an end. As much as we loved the regular weekly contact with Hadley's cert AVT, we knew the goal was to complete regular sessions by the time Hadley entered kindergarten. Lea and Jim's sabbatical year to improve AVT services in Australia was the perfect push out of the nest for us, cushioned by monthly sessions with their mentee, Carrie.

4. Change is good! As a toddler, Hadley had developed a few behaviors in reaction to some routine examinations. Having someone new took her mind off her fears and helped her overcome her concerns over some of the more uncomfortable procedures.

5. If you aren't feeling comfortable with a new person, start asking around. It's not always worth going to the closest office if you don't trust the professionals there. Sometimes it's better to drive the extra miles to someone you respect rather than stick with someone you endure.

6. Speak up! We're ingrained to not ask personal questions, but sometimes you have to be direct in order to make proactive decisions. How long will the maternity leave be? Is the person returning to a full or reduced schedule? Hopefully, you've developed a good relationship with this person and can ask without being pushy or intrusive...but ask, regardless.

As parents, we're acutely aware of how hard it is to find professionals who are right for our children and circumstances. Our kids just want to feel comfortable at all these office visits, and the personality that works best for them may be different than what works for us. While Hadley agrees with our choices so far, I'm becoming more aware that she feels safer and more confident with some professionals more than others. These are all factors that will become even more important the next time we're jostled out of our happy support team and forced to reassess those upon whom we all rely.

Doing what's best for...

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 01:50:00 +0000

While it's always a great time to see crowds of family and friends over the holidays, it's not always the easiest of listening environments for Hadley. I'm more proactive than reactive in these situations, mainly because the combination of excitement, sugar and high energy along with the listening challenges can be a recipe for disaster. While I normally give Hadley the time and space to make her own decisions, in crowded situations I'm usually ready to step in and speak quietly and directly to her, when necessary. For those family members and friends who generally see us during the holidays or at large gatherings, they may have the sense that this is how we always interact with Hadley, hovering and intervening. Hadley makes listening and communicating seem so effortless, it's easy for people to either forget that she lives with a very significant hearing loss and sometimes struggles.

Along with the holiday chit chat, I find myself answering questions about Hadley and her hearing from well-meaning, well-intentioned adults. For whatever reason, this year several people questioned whether some of my actions were truly necessary, particularly the act of physically moving closer to Hadley in large crowds to communicate with her. Couldn't I just sign? Rely on lip reading? It's such a chore to get up and move over to her; to quote one person, "sometimes you have to do what's best for mom", that there's a lesson for kids to learn in being put second. Why don't I do what's best for me? Certainly it would be simpler for me to mouth instructions across the room to Hadley, flip my hands or fingers a few times to get my point across. Why not?

Here's the deal: at nine years old, we're halfway through our time with Hadley. In just a few short years, she's not going to have a knowing adult keeping tabs on her from across the room, silently cuing and correcting her. These are the years where she needs us to intervene, so she knows what to do in the future when it's just her. We don't want her to develop simple coping skills, we want life skills that can carry her into adulthood and beyond. That may mean pausing my own conversations to help her now. I may be on high alert during new activities (like basketball this winter), not chatting on the sidelines but instead keeping myself available to clue her in now in order to allow her to be more independent later. Some might see this as hovering, but my intent is to get as much direct information into Hadley now so she can handle the world later.

So, yes: right now, we're doing what's best for Hadley. Our time will come at some point in the future, but we only have the present to get into Hadley as much academic and social learning that is possible. Forgive us if we let a conversation pause or lapse; if we take longer than what you think is necessary; if we intervene more frequently than you think you would, if in our position. And thank you to all those people who may not exactly understand why we do all these things, but support our choices nonetheless.

Happy Holidays!

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Wed, 22 Dec 2010 13:12:00 +0000

...and Happy New Year to everyone! Thanks for reading our blog!

Stirling Snowman Christmas

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Telephone Time

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Thu, 09 Dec 2010 15:43:00 +0000

As a preschooler, we made sure that Hadley regularly talked on the telephone to build up those pure auditory and listening skills. Dan called from work to ask specific questions about her school day, and she talked to other relatives frequently. Sometimes, when we were delayed in traffic, I handed Hadley my cell phone and had her explain to her therapist, Lea, why we'd be late to that week's AVT session. Hadley did not use the t-coil setting on her hearing aids, as she found it annoying, but we discovered that increasing the volume on the phone worked just as well. She did especially well with our old Uniden 900MHz cordless phone, so we invested in battery packs for that specific model to last us for years. With consistent exposure, she was turning into a pretty savvy phone user.

Then we had twin boys and I became, well, busy.

Hadley still uses the phone a few times a week but, as her language and people's expectations of her have increased, I've felt less confident in her abilities on the phone. Despite living in a world of texts and emails, phone skills are a life necessity. I've noticed improved phone conversations with the new hearing aids, which automatically switch to the t-coil setting when held up to a phone. On my long list of things I mean to do, I've been planning to increase opportunities for Hadley to use the telephone, but still haven't gotten around to it.

Yesterday afternoon, the telephone rang. It was a friend calling to talk to Hadley.

As I went to fetch Hadley in her bedroom, I was thinking about what I'd do. She's talked on the phone with friends before, but not recently and not with these aids. Plus, kids can sound a little slushy over the phone wires. Would I stay nearby in case she needed assistance? Hover? Suggest that she sit in a certain room to decrease background noise?

I handed the phone to Hadley, told her which friend was calling...and she took it and walked back into her bedroom, closing her door. Oh, the other option I had overlooked: letting her manage on her own.

A few minutes later, Hadley came downstairs, still chatting away. She found her backpack, took out her homework folder, answered her friend's question about math, said goodbye, and hung up the phone. Then she returned to her bedroom. End of story.

I have a tendency to overthink things, which (although, at times, useful) can be annoying. I'd love to know what they talked about; if Hadley controlled the conversation or if it was more equally shared; if she had to ask for clarification; if she misheard anything. I could make recommendations for the next time the phone rings for Hadley or suggest that she call a different friend every so often for regular practice. Or I could keep my questions to myself and let Hadley roll with it. I'll probably wind up somewhere in the middle, where I'll ask her to answer the phone for me more frequently and increase those opportunities more naturally.
Two useful tips for the telephone:

1. If you are in the market for new cell phones, consider those that have an intercom feature for calling between extensions. While I have no interest in installing a phone in Hadley's bedroom, I do ask her sometimes to bring an extension into her room. She might not hear me call her name with music on or the door closed, but I can page the extension and she'll answer.

2. While nothing replaces actual phone conversations, there are a few ways to practice without a partner. One that I particularly like is Cochlear's "Telephone with Confidence" program. Although designed by a cochlear implant company, their listening skills programs are suitable for hearing aid users as well. After calling into the 800 number, the listener can opt to listen to a short list of single words as well as a recorded paragraph, then go to the website to download the day's entries to read what was said.

Insurance Coverage for Hearing Aids

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Wed, 08 Dec 2010 18:11:00 +0000

Most people are shocked to learn that hearing aids are not covered by health insurance in many states. While a typical adult hearing aid user might choose to upgrade hearing aids every five, seven or ten years, children receive great benefit from newer technology on a more frequent basis, like three to five years. Digital hearing aids-- even the basic models-- cost about $2,500 per aid. If your child has a more severe loss, the price tag creeps upward. Add on the cost of earmolds, batteries, and other accessories, and the total cost becomes gigantic. Health insurance provides coverage for annual hearing evaluations and the newborn hearing screen that gives many of us the initial diagnosis...then stops there. Hadley is just nine years old yet, in that time, we have spent about $20,000 on her ears.

There are several bills in the Massachusetts legislation right now that seek to require coverage for hearing aids. I have written many letters to members of our state and federal government about providing coverage for ALL hearing aid users, regardless of age, but I'm throwing my support toward any legal effort to provide some substantial coverage. The next legislative session opens in several weeks, and H910 is expected to be filed in both the House and Senate then. This bill is supported by the Massachusetts Hearing Aids for Children Coalition. Public support is critical to the success of this endeavor. Won't you please consider signing the petition and sending a letter of support to the Commonwealth?

Piano Concert

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Mon, 06 Dec 2010 02:15:00 +0000

So many people (professionals included) think that a hearing loss prevents a person from enjoying music, let alone playing an instrument. Music has been a big part of Hadley's life from day one; taking her to music classes, joining a children's chorus, and practicing the piano are just natural extensions of her interest in music. The fact that music helped develop her auditory skills is just gravy.

Every year, Hadley performs at the Cranberry Hospice Festival of Trees. This past weekend, she performed two pieces on the piano, including the Skater's Waltz with another student. I've edited this video, as it involves another child, but Hadley is the student wearing the white shirt, playing the melody. Playing this duet was a challenge. Hadley received the music just last month and only started playing with her partner a week or so ago. They played without listening to each other and just raced to the end of the piece, losing the rhythm almost immediately. No matter what the teacher did, Hadley couldn't connect what she was playing to the accompaniment. I was beginning to think this was out of reach for her, right now (Hadley spends more time brushing her teeth than she does practicing the piano!).

Just a few hours before the concert, Hadley asked me to practice with her. We broke it down, section by section. We played it through, over and over, for about ten minutes. We were never perfect, but definitely improved enough so Hadley could hear how the two parts worked together. At the very least, I thought, Hadley was more confident. That could only help things.

Since this is not a made-for-tv movie, Hadley and her friend did not nail the piece. They kept it together until the final tricky part, but got through to the end. What I loved was how the two of them were visually checking in with each other (it might not be as apparent with the editing) as well as listening to attempt to correct themselves at the end. Fingers were flying, nerves jangling, but both girls used their own hearing to make music together.

Support John Tracy Clinic's Quest for 250K

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Fri, 03 Dec 2010 15:01:00 +0000

In addition to weekly auditory-verbal therapy sessions, we also participated in John Tracy Clinic's birth-to-five distance learning program for several years. This free program provides very detailed and very practical instructions each month on how to promote oral language in your hard-of-hearing child. In return, we submitted an update on Hadley's hearing health and speech progress, answering specific questions that corresponded to the monthly lessons and recommendations. A JTC professional responded by email, following up on any of our questions and providing individualized suggestions based on the information we shared. While it's been years since we participated in the program, I still use many of their worksheets to explain hearing loss to Hadley's teachers each year.

In addition to the online program that helps families all over the world, JTC provides audiology, early intervention and academic services to families living in Southern California. They are currently in the running to win $250,000 through the Pepsi Refresh Project to further fund their preschool program. Please take a moment to vote for them each day during the month of December.

Calling for Backup

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Wed, 01 Dec 2010 02:36:00 +0000

It's always important to have people to fall back upon in emergencies. It's even more critical when you have a child with additional needs. When Hadley was a baby, I wanted to make sure that anyone staying alone with her knew how to insert the hearing aids and do some basic troubleshooting, like change a battery. If a person was hesitant to learn these things, it was a good indicator that I should leave Hadley alone with someone else.

Hadley's much more independent with her hearing aids, and my focus has turned more toward finding people who can handle the challenge of active twins. Last weekend, however, was a huge reminder of how important it is to have a strong contingency plan in place.

My husband became very ill, very suddenly the weekend before Thanksgiving, requiring a trip to the hospital. What began as a simple trip to the ER became a three day hospital stay, resulting in a call for backup help with the kids. We're fortunate (spoiled) to have frequent contact with my family who live just a few minutes away, and the kids were happy as clams with their extended sleepover. I was able to just focus on my microworld at the hospital, Dan focused on recovering, and the kids just did their thing. It went so well, my guys are now hoping another hospitalization is necessary so they get another three night sleepover!

While this was an extreme experience that hopefully won't occur again anytime soon, it was a reminder how important it is to have a "what-if" plan in place...and doubly important when your family is a little more complicated than the norm. This week has been a return to our regular routine: regular, boring old life is pretty good!

The Wheels on the Bus...

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Fri, 19 Nov 2010 12:33:00 +0000

Regardless of progress or experience, one issue seems to always remain for parents of hard-of hearing children: determining whether a problem is due to the child or the hearing status. It's a bit of a chicken-or-the-egg dilemma. Is Sam not pronouncing the /s/ sound because he can't hear it or because there's an articulation problem? Is Cindy afraid of fire drills because of the loud sounds or a fear about her safety? Does Kim stand around on the soccer field because she can't hear the coach's instructions or because she's simply bored of playing soccer?

Most of the time, the cause has little to do with the ultimate solution and you can respond to the whole child, not just the hearing loss. I remember that, but then every once in a while, I'll completely jump the gun.

Hadley has a new school bus driver this year, a great person who is on top of everything that happens on the ride. I've had no concerns about Hadley and her time on the bus, until I recently noticed that she was taking forever to find a seat in the morning. As one of the last kids to board the bus, it can be a challenge to find a seat, but this was becoming agonizingly long (especially to the drivers in the cars behind the bus). I noticed she was often walking back to the driver to ask for assistance. I couldn't figure out what was the problem. Was she avoiding sitting next to older kids, or someone in particular? Trying to sit in a certain section to hear the driver? Could she hear the kids who were telling her where to sit? I could only figure out so much from my view from the driveway, but I was convinced this problem was due to her hearing.

While we're really trying to let Hadley fend for herself, I decided that it was time to intervene. In anticipation, I prepped myself with some possible solutions for Hadley. Turns out that all my guesses were wrong. Hadley has a friend who joined their bus route this year and is the final stop on the morning pick up. They like to sit together, so Hadley has been searching for a completely empty seat. It took a few weeks, but kids who used to sit by themselves now sit together to leave an empty spot for Hadley to grab. An Olympic sprinter couldn't get to the seat faster than Hadley does now!

Perhaps now I'll learn not to lose sleep preparing to solve a problem that doesn't even exist. It's not always about her ears...

Of all the things...

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Fri, 12 Nov 2010 03:20:00 +0000

First off, thanks for all the emails and messages this week! It really cheered Hadley up to know that people were reading and thinking of her.

After a second consult with Hadley's ENT, we left wondering whether Hadley had an about-to-emerge ear infection or TMJ in her right ear. It was too close to call, so we opted to keep a close eye on the affected ear, continue with ibuprofen, restrict Hadley to soft foods, and follow up with a dentist. By Wednesday night, Hadley was able to insert her hearing aid into her right ear (first time in three days).

It just so happened that Hadley had a dentist's appointment already scheduled for today, where the dentist agreed that Hadley had TMJ. While it's a relief to have a firm diagnosis in hand, it's still a surprise that this severe ear pain has nothing to do with her ear! I understand the physiology, but it's still amazing to think that it just takes a tiny bit of swelling to make it impossible for Hadley to insert her hearing aid into her ear. Hadley now knows to be cautious about opening her mouth widely (when, for instance, yelling at her brothers), is avoiding gum, and already received some suggestions for mouth exercises from her music teacher. She'll be seeing an orthodontist soon to see what might plans might be in her future.

It's been a long, exhausting week for Hadley as she battled an infection in one ear and unknown pain in the other. While it's temporary and certainly not life-threatening, a friend reminded me that it's okay not to minimize this to others. Yes, Hadley will get through this and will return to (her version of) normal, but it's still been a challenging week...for all of us. For two days, she didn't hear...and she made the best of it. She relies on her hearing just like any other "typical" person. I'd be tired, cranky and confused, too, if I suddenly lost my ability to hear (add -ier to all of that; Hadley made this week look easy in comparison). We're all looking forward to a return to life as usual, with perhaps a better appreciation for how hard Hadley works every day to keep up in a hearing, listening world.

Living without Listening

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 11:11:00 +0000

The good news is that only one of Hadley's ears is infected. We're back on track with the drops her ENT wants (over-the-counter clotrimazole; quite different than what the pediatrician's office recommends), and Hadley should have a healthy ear in a few days. The better news is that Hadley's other ear just needed to be cleaned (even though it was just done six weeks ago). The bad news is that her healthy ear is still sore from the debris. She couldn't tolerate her hearing aid yesterday, and today is just the same.

I'm trying to remember the last time Hadley was without both hearing aids for an extended period and the answer, I think , is never. This is a hearing, listening, speaking kid; she doesn't like to miss anything. The last day has been challenging and exhausting for her. Although she is an excellent (self taught) lip reader, it's tiring and she expends a lot of energy in the process. She crawled into bed early last night and was asleep within minutes.

Hadley woke up disappointed this morning that her ear still hurt so much (I took a peek with my otoscope; it appears that the skin is a little irritated from the wax that was removed yesterday). She misses her friends. She's annoyed that she completed two school projects early and now is absent on the day they are due ("They're going to think I stayed home because they weren't finished!"). She's bummed that our downstairs television doesn't have captioning that works, but doesn't want to go upstairs away from people.

Surprisingly, there hasn't been a single complaint yet this morning. Hadley's doing the best she can while we wait for the ENT office to open. While I'm not certain there's anything we can do other than give her ears some time to heal, it's worth a co-pay to have that confirmed by someone who actually went to medical school. (This is definitely one of those times when I wished Dan and I had made different grad school choices!)

In the meantime, we'll stock up on library books and do some math. You don't need optimal hearing to practice math facts!

There's a Fungus Among Us

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 11:32:00 +0000

Will she ever get a break? Hadley wages an ongoing battle with otitis externa. She gets swimmer's ear just from taking a shower. (I exaggerate...but that's what it seems.) She dries her ears carefully after baths and showers, typically taken at night so she can leave her aids out and go straight to bed. Her ears are cleaned regularly by her ENT to avoid wax buildup (that can trap moisture in the ear canal). We've done vinegar solutions (approved by her ENT) as a preventative measure.

Regardless, Hadley is now experiencing her fourth or fifth fungal infection of the year. (I'm placing my money on last week's humidity as the most recent cause). She complained of the familiar aches, itchiness and swelling in one ear, and was seen by her pediatrician a few days ago, confirming what we suspected. She's been using ear drops ever since, forgoing the aid in that ear, and feeling better. Last night, she felt it starting in her other ear and woke up feeling worse.

Hadley's never had both ears affected at the same time, so being without both aids is a new twist. I'm readying my fingers to call the ENT as soon as the office opens to get her on today's schedule. While I know that one ear is on the mend and the other soon will be, I'm beyond frustrated that this continues to occur. By contrast, Hadley's a trouper. Not only is she enduring the pain and discomfort, but she hasn't complained about missing activities or going without her hearing aids. (It helped that she just happened to learn about a cyber friend's son and his frustrating obstacles with his cochlear implants. She's old enough to understand the different layers of challenges all HOH kids face.) Her only comment so far has been, "Isn't it kind of funny how it started in one ear and went into the other? It's like the infection is playing hopscotch!" Oh, and to ask for hot chocolate at breakfast. She knows how to work the system!

Hopefully, we're an hour away from having a scheduled ENT appointment and just a day away from getting Hadley back on track. An extra special thank you will be given to the nurse who can find an appointment that doesn't conflict with preschool pick up or today's dentist appointment, and happens when it's not sleeting outside. If we can't get a permanent cure for fungus, can't we at least get convenience??

UPDATE: This is why families need to work so hard to find great professionals to help their kids. I called the ENT office just as it opened this morning. My wait--even on a Monday morning-- was less than one minute to talk to the front office. I explained the situation to the receptionist, got transferred immediately back to a nurse, and received an appointment for later this morning, with Hadley's actual ENT. We're on our way!

When adults say stupid (yes, stupid) things

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Sat, 06 Nov 2010 15:48:00 +0000

Having been acutely aware of each and every word Hadley heard and learned in her first five years, I'm very conscious of the words I choose to say around my kids. I choose my issues about a lot of things, but I'm a stickler for polite language. So, it was a bit of a shock for Hadley to hear me say to her the other day, "That was the stupidest thing I've ever heard an adult say ". And I meant every single word.

Hadley and I were out and about, just the two of us running some errands. A 65ish year old woman waited on us and, while staring at Hadley's hearing aids, stumbled for words. "Are those...is she wearing...?" I filled in, "Yes, those are her hearing aids." The woman looked directly at Hadley and commented on how fancy they were. So far, all normal. We have these kinds of conversations all the time with adults. Then she said the stupidest, dumbest thing an adult has ever said to Hadley:

"You don't really need them, right? They don't look real. Are they part of your Halloween costume?"

I really encourage Hadley to speak up and answer questions on her own, but this went beyond the call of duty. I assured the woman (well-intentioned, I know) that Hadley's hearing aids are real and that they make aids in cool and fun styles. Hadley was stunned into silence, trying to figure out how to respond to a smiling person who had just delivered a zinger (albeit, unintentional). She managed to quietly confirm that these were, in fact, her hearing aids and finished up the conversation. We scooted out the door, where I said my fateful words, "That was the stupidest thing I've ever heard an adult say", along with, "I'm proud of you. You taught her something today."

I know we all sometimes say things that come out the wrong way, especially when confronted with something we are trying to understand and figure out. Hadley was at first pretty sad about this encounter-- not in a dramatic "She said my aids were a Halloween costume!!! Can you believe it??!" kind of way, but a quiet, I'm-going-to-go-sit-quietly-by-myself manner. Hearing me use the word 'stupid' shook her out of it, and we spent a minute or two talking about how the woman didn't mean to hurt Hadley's feelings, that it was okay to feel sad about the encounter, and how Hadley had handled the situation well. She's brought it up a few times since, and the story is quickly becoming "The Time Mom Called a Woman Stupid" story that will end up in our annals of family history.

You know what? I'm completely okay with that.

Just when you think you're in for an easy ride...

noreply@blogger.com (KerryD) — Wed, 27 Oct 2010 19:34:00 +0000

The new aids arrived late last week and Hadley was thrilled to receive them (and the cool green bag; she was psyched to discover that her audiologist had ordered the "junior" package instead of the "kids". A girl can have only so many stuffed animals and puppets with cloth hearing aids on them!).

We hit a minor blip on night one, connecting the iCom to the television. I'm actually surprised that, with the extensive home theatre systems many homes have, connection instructions assume you have a 1980 television and rabbit ears. Luckily for me, in our marriage partnership, I own computer repairs and my husband holds responsibility for the television and all those wires in the back. It took two nights of thinking it out, but he finally was successful.

Hadley was rather bored with the technical side, so instead of sitting her down and leading her through the parade of options, we had her try something new every day. She was having a blast with it until...one hearing aid started to crackle.

Seriously? A brand new hearing aid, and we're already troubleshooting. After an unsuccessful night in the Dry & Store, I brought it up to the audiologist. The good news is that a new hearing aid is on its way and Hadley has a loaner in the meantime. It was interesting to hear Hadley's response to wearing the new Naida in one ear and her old Siemens in the other. This was the first time since early August that she had listened with the Siemens, and she described it as being hollow, like an echo, and somewhat robotic. I expected that she'd adjust after a few hours, but that was not the case. She was so eager to get a Naida back in her ear that I picked up the loaner and brought it straight to her at school!

Hopefully, we'll be back on track in a few more days. Hadley's ready to try out listening to the iPod through the iCom!