The tiny impact each key makes on my computer keyboard creates a sound wave that travels through the air to my ear canal where it is channeled through my inner ear and turned into chemical reaction so my brain can interpret the tapping as a sound. That's the ideal situation. In the real world, I wear hearing aids to offset the hearing impairment that I acquired after a bad reaction to medication. Without hearing aids, I can't hear a normal conversation, much less the rythmic patter of my fingers as they type a word.
I never considered myself to be disabled as a child -- the hearing aids were something else I put on every morning. I just used them to hear better. That changed when I visited San Francisco in the summer between 10th and 11th grade. I can pinpoint the place where I was standing on Market Street when, for the first time I felt insecure about my hearing. I can remember those thoughts: You're not normal. The hearing aids look ugly. The girls won't like you. You're not as good as everyone else. That moment of self-consciousness was overwhelming and I surrendered to it. And there I was, 17, in downtown San Francisco, shamefully putting my hearing aids in my pocket for the first time.
Then I went to a Burger King to eat.
"Do you want fries with that?" sure feels different when there's no sound coming out of the server's mouth. I couldn't catch a clue, so I acted bored and uninterested and I ignored the server. Deep down, though, I knew that the charade could only last for so long.
After graduation, I moved out to San Francisco on my own. Once settled, I met some nice people who asked to pray for my hearing. It was then that I realized that my disability wasn't going away any time soon. My friends told me that what I lacked in hearing I made up for in intelligence, so using my analytical mind I thought: if my disability was permanent, a constant, then my attitude, a variable, would have to work for, and not against that constant. I had to help myself out, basically. I couldn't just let life pass me by because I was insecure about my hearing. I became more assertive in asking questions. Now, when I don't understand something, I make sure I get it right. But every once in a while, I'll let something slip, sometimes on purpose. Life is more fun and random when people misunderstand the little things. Honestly, I never would have imagined that I would have a better life because of my disability.
I know that maybe one day I'll wake up without hearing a sound. I sincerely hope this doesn't happen, but I have to prepare. Until then, I'll be happy just listening to music, to the sound of people's voices and to the tap-tap-tap of the keys on my computer keyboard as I type a word.
