IM SO SORRY! I NEED AN INTERPRETER! AGAIN, I’M SO SORRY!

I’m not the type of person to feel strongly about standing up for my rights. Well, I take that back. I do feel strongly, but I have a hard time insisting on my rights being taking care of. For example, many years ago I met with a therapist. He flat-out told me that he refused to pay for an interpreter and that, if I wanted him to see me, I would need to pay for my own. Instead of explaining the ADA to him and insisting that he accommodate my needs, I shrunk down in my seat and just started saying stuff like, “Oh, that’s OK. I’m sure there are agencies out there who will pay for an interpreter for me. You don’t have to pay a thing. I’ll be fine.” Which, just in case you don’t know, isn’t quite accurate.  It’s the therapist’s legal obligation to provide accommodations for me (an interpreter in my case) for his services. That doctor had me so intimidated that I’ve since found it hard to request accommodations with any doctor or group at any time. Pretty sad, eh?

My kids go to a charter school. I have had a few occasions when I’ve needed an interpreter. When I’ve asked, they have always – ALWAYS – said yes and gotten me an interpreter. Yet, it’s still scary for me to ask. Why is that? It’s not really fair for me to feel scared to ask for something that is rightfully mine. I do though. I shrink down like a little kid and beg for accommodations. One day, I hope to be able to stand up for myself with confidence and explain my needs and demand my rights be met. Until that day, I’ll sill request interpreters. I’ll just be scared doing so. Kind of pathetic, but that’s the way it is.

How Can I "Eat Fresh" If You Won't Serve Me?

Everyone is different. No two people are 100% alike—no matter how hard you look. The same goes for deaf and hard of hearing people. We run the gamut from totally oral to totally ASL. Some use various types of aids, while others (like me) go au natural. Not only do we differ as people, the same person differs from day to day. At least I know I do. Some days you can’t shut me up. Other days I can hardly lift a finger or utter a sound.

I have to be honest and profess that life in general as a Deaf person can be “easier” when that person uses his or her voice while conversing with hearing people while out in public. That does depend, however, on how well they can speak. I personally see no trouble in carrying a notebook and jotting down my thoughts or needs. However, sadly, many hearing people look at the paper I show them with total confusion. “Why are you handing me paper? What am I supposed to do with this?” Uh…read it?

That’s exactly what happened to me the other day. I was having a no-voice kind of day. Didn’t want to be bothered by how loud or unclear I came off as. I happily toted my notebook with me and hadn’t run into any problems…until…

I was hungry, OK? I really needed something to eat and Subway was calling my name. As I sat in my car outside the restaurant, I happily jotted down—very precisely—the exact sandwich and toppings I wanted. Clear as a bell. Easy—peasy.

When I finally went inside, they were busy with the lunch rush, and, for some reason, I was nervous. I often get nervous communicating with hearing people. Actually, I have a social phobia, so I’m nervous with all people. But not being able to hear and hearing people who can’t sign, just increases my fear a hundred fold.

Anyway, I waited patiently, and when my turn came, I politely handed over the list of what I wanted.

“NO!” the girl behind the counter started mumbling and waved me off. I’m guessing she said something about not being willing to take the paper. I pointed to my ear and told her I was deaf and she just continued talking.

“I can’t understand you,” I gestured. After taking a minute, I realized she didn’t want to touch the paper with her gloves on. That it compromised her sanitary space.

“If you can’t just talk to me, then you need to go somewhere else,” she rudely waved me away. I indicated that I could hold the paper up and she could just read it. Obviously, she couldn’t read, because she refused to do that as well. I was very frustrated. It was clear that this woman, whose job is to serve the public, didn’t want to be bothered with anything “out of the ordinary.”

I didn’t get a sandwich that day. I because so flustered and annoyed that I just walked out. I should have asked to talk with the manager, but I admit that sometimes I simply don’t have the energy to bother.

Why must things be so complicated? Why do so many people freak out if something or someone needs something outside of the “norm?” Being deaf and the needs we have shouldn’t debilitate us. But I can’t look at it as me causing mayhem. It’s the other person making a fairly simple situation more chaotic than it needs to be. It was a piece of paper, for goodness sake! I guess you have to have all your senses and be able to accommodate the workers in order to “eat fresh.” Subway, say it isn’t so!

"Huh?"

Anywhere I go, things can get "interesting." Being asked questions, needing to ask questions myself, having to explain to whomever I am in contact with that I'm Deaf and cannot read lips--it gets old and I'm often misunderstood.

The other day had yet another couple of "interesting" experiences. First, I had to go through a fast food drive through for my daughter. Yelling into the speaker and having my daughter "interpret" what was being said--it turned into a yelling match...and not a fun one (as we all know yelling matches can be).

"I want a french fry with cheese and a vanilla shake." I have no idea what they said back. All my daughter did was nod. "What size," I asked her.

"Huh?" was her excellent retort.

"What size shake do you want?"

"Oh. Medium."

"I need a medium vanilla shake." I yelled into the speaker.

My daughter asked, "A second one?"

"Huh?" It must run in the family.

"A second vanilla shake?"

"No. I need the first shake to be medium."

"And what size for the second shake?" the people on the speaker obviously yelled.

"There is no second shake!!!" I was getting pretty frustrated by this point. "I need a french fry with cheese and a medium vanilla shake."

My daughter looked at me and nodded. "OK."

"OK, what?"

"You're done. Please pull forward," she smiled. Man, did I want to hit someone!

Later that day, I took my son to Subway as a way to get out of the house--just the two of us. The place was packed and there were four or five workers frantically trying to keep up with the crowd.

I let my son go first and then it was my turn. I'd been there many times, so I thought I could guess the questions the worker was going to ask me. Wrong.

As he went down the line, he finally stopped and asked me a one-word question of which I had no idea. My son was ahead of my--taking care of his own order--and I didn't want to bother him. Again the worker asked me something....."______?"

"Neutral?" was the only word I could guesstimate from him.

"What??" He was very confused. "_______?"

"Squirrel?" I tried again. I'm very bad at lipreading, in case you haven't guessed yet.

Finally, I think I caused enough stir in the line that my son noticed my struggle. He turned to me, "Mom, do you want it toasted?" Ahhhhhh...........

"Toasted? Really?? Man, I really stink at this. No thank you." We finished our orders and sat down to eat. My son, who is always there to start a great conversation, looked at my for a long time.

"What?" I finally asked. "You look like you have a question on your mind." I said.

"Yeah. I was just wondering, is it hard being Deaf?"

Hmmm. I pondered this and finally answered, "It has its moments. Sometimes good, sometimes bad." I was trying to be nice. What I really wanted to say was with great sarcasm--is it hard being Deaf?

Just a little.........

Say WHAT?

I really appreciate hearing people who know some signs--how they use what they know when they're around me. I know many--if not most--professionals I've been to, in addition to hiring an interpreter, seem to try a few phrases and work from there. They often ask me or my interpreter what the sign for such and such is and so forth.

What happens though is actually pretty amusing. I mean, yes, I should be respectful, and I am. But many of their efforts don't always come across quite the way it was meant to be.

My grandmother died a few years ago. I was able to attend her funeral and it was nice to be around family. As I sat down to wait for the service to begin, my younger sister sits down and slowly, with an evil expression, signs, I'M SATAN! Now, that's one being you do not want to have attending a funeral. (She meant to sign PARANOID about her weight.) After the service I was pretty broken up. My mom saw me crying and signed "ITS OK. GRANDMA NOW WITH QUEEN." I didn't even know she was British. (She meant to sign LORD.)

My DBT trainer has worked well with me and sometimes inquires about how to sign certain things. She asked to learn BIRTHDAY. A week later it was my birthday and my trainer wasted no time calling me a HAPPY MOTHERF*****." It was an honest mistake, but one that will last a lifetime in my head.

Finally, I taught a group of ASL students the sign for MORNING. Six out of 8 came back and started signing "F*** off" instead of a gentler "GOOD MORNING." Careful now.

So, learning signs can be fun, silly, and exciting. But beware--if you're not careful, you may end up wishing and calling people every name in the book. And I don't mean the Bible.

GRAND RAPIDS OFFERS AIRPORT ASSISTANCE TO DEAF/HOH TRAVELERS. (Meeting the Man Behind the Plan)

Being deaf or hard of hearing can be a challenge almost anywhere. However, traveling via airplane can up the ante even more. Sure, it seems easy enough—and to some it very well may be—but to many deaf/HOH travelers (especially the ones flying solo) the airport can seem most daunting.

As some of my readers already know, my husband, Kenny, works for TSA at the airport here in Grand Rapids, MI. He also signs rather well since he’s got to be able to communicate with me and I can ‘t lipread.  Well, for a while he started noticing that some of the people on their way in or out of the airport seemed rather confused. He decided to approach some of these people and speak and sign at the same time just to see if, maybe, those people were deaf/HOH. As it turned out, more often than not, they were and they were ecstatic to find a government employee who could help them out enormously.

The more this took place, the more often Kenny would be asked signs and etiquette questions by other TSA members. It seemed to be a real concern that most TSA workers wanted to help solve. So, what did Kenny do? Kenny created a program for workers to be able to learn signs and communicate and assist deaf/HOH travelers easier and more comfortably.

I caught up with him recently to interview him about such program (he works two jobs and naps…I never see the man…that’s why I “caught up.” Wink)

Q: Can you describe, in your own words, what exactly the program entails?

A: The program involves learning a little about Deaf Culture, such as how to get someone’s attention, points of contact, ABCs, and all basic phrases and vocabulary involved in TSA experience.

Q: And how do you think this program would help the TSA employees?

A: It allows security officers to interact with the deaf/HOH population more personally.

Q: How did you come about the decision to start this?

A: I got a lot of encouragement from my wife (SIDE NOTE: I did NOT pay him to say that). I had deaf travelers come through the airport and I was able to help, but only me. I was able to do it rather smoothly and that really impressed my team and they started asking me to please show them how to do that, too.

Q: Have you or others had any use of it so far?

A: Yes! I’ve had two officers who have had multiple experiences with deaf travelers and the deaf have told me how appreciative they are that people at the Grand Rapids airport can interact!

Q: Give me an example.

A: One time a deaf woman came through and the officer at the front knew she was deaf because she had a note pinned to her shirt: “I’m deaf. I need to go to such and such place on Delta.” The officer got my attention and, when I started to sign with her she was elated and the officer wanted to learn to be able to do that, too. In fact, there was another officer who didn’t remember all of the program, but started pointing and gesturing and writing down whatever was needed. He never forced her to lipread since she said she couldn’t.

Q: How do you know sign language?
A: My wife’s Deaf and she’s helped a lot.

Q: How long have you been signing?

A: Fifteen years.

Q: On a scale of 1- 10, how good are you?

A: I’d say I’m good. 7.

Q: Have you had any interest in the program outside of your specific airport?

A: Yes. I’ve had many people inside TSA contact me for information on Sign Language.

Q: Where? How did you respond?

A: In the West Michigan area I’ve taught people in Muskegon, Kalamazoo, and Manistee. But I’ve sent information to people in Colorado, Florida, Illinois, and Boston. I’ve always responded enthusiastically that I’m here and ready to help.

Q: What would you say to other TSA employees who want to learn your program?

A: The program is readily available and I’ve both a manual and a DVD instruction video that helps them understand the questions they need to ask (sign phrases) and how to interact appropriately to deaf/HOH travelers and to remember that everyone has different needs. Be open minded.

Well, I for one am most proud. Kenny’s book and DVD is wonderful and took a LOT of work. I just wish the program would start spreading over the US, helping all airports have this kind of support available. Pretty cool, eh?

Are People's Needs Being Met?

We’ve come a long way since the days of serious oppression vented toward the deaf and hard of hearing population. Things such as interpreters and phones are now readily accessible in most situations. Most. So, when I found myself a patient at a nearby mental health facility, I was quite surprised at the workers’ attitude toward me and my deafness.

I should first let you know that this specific admission was, by far, not my first time being there. Not only are accommodations the law, but these people knew me by name when I got to my unit. You’d think they’d already know about my needs. You’d think it anyway….

The first main problem I had was the fact that several of the nurses didn’t believe that I couldn’t lipread.  “All deaf people lipread. I think she’s faking for attention’s sake.” One nurse in particular took many people aside and said, “If you catch her lipreading, come tell me. I don’t believe she can’t.” Now, why would I fake something just to make my life more difficult than it already is?

After a few admissions, I think the staff finally “got it” that I need an interpreter, but in there lay another problem…cost.

Although they were usually good about calling for a ‘terp, the problem was when that ‘terp should leave. A ‘terp was scheduled from 9 till 12 and from 1 till 4 for groups, meeting with my doctor or case manager, etc. But they would often give me medicine to de-stress me and it made me unbelievably sleepy. However, when I would lay down to try to sleep it off for a half hour or so, they would send the interpreter home—saying that they didn’t want to have to pay for an interpreter if I wasn’t awake to use them.

But what about the doctor? They would send the ‘terp home and then, later, would say the doctor needs to talk with me or that group is happening and it was mandatory to go. What they didn’t understand was that ‘interpreters are paid on a two-hour basis. No matter when they actually left, the hospital would still have to pay for the full two hours at a time. So, sending them home didn’t save anyone money and it made me miss the doctor or nurse or any professional who needed to speak with me.

Another problem that was never rectified while I was in-patient, was the telephone. Technically, it would be best if they had a video phone hooked up for deaf patients to use. They said they “thought they had a TTY around here somewhere,” but, not only was it yet to be found, but no one I know has one anymore. They’re very outdated,  So I would need to have my interpreter call on a regular land line phone, tell me what the person on the other end said and then let me speak into the phone and answer them. No privacy whatsoever. It was just wrong.

While I was in there this last time, several of my interpreters commented to their agency regarding how mistreated I am as far as communication goes. When I was discharged from the hospital, I worked with the customer rights’ unit at the agency and was told that things would be different next time. Next time? I hope I don’t have a “next time,” but I guess, if I do, at least (hopefully) it will be able to meet all of my needs.

Which Way Do I Look?

For those of you familiar with or living in the Deaf culture, you must already know the rules of eye contact during communication. The basic rules is to keep close eye contact with the person who is signing to you. One look away can cost you an entire conversation or, even worse, a friend.

It’s one of the rules that many hearing people break—usually unknowingly. However, it does happen when the hearing person knows the rules but doesn’t respect them closely enough. And when I first decided to use interpreters practically on a daily basis, it was very confusing to even me.

I mean, I’m suppose to remain my eye contact towards the person signing to me. That would obviously be my interpreter. At the same time, I felt rude to the person doing the talking. So, who do I look at?

I started going back and forth. When the person talking stopped moving his lips, I would watch the interpreter till she was done and then go back to staring at the talker. Is this so wrong? What exactly do you guys do or what do you experience?

Needs Are Not Only Important--They're legally Expected

One thing some people don’t realize when they’re out—and even if they run into a deaf person while they’re out and about—how difficult some aspects can become if no one’s prepared. They don’t see that we need help in one way or another—ASL interpreter, oral interpreter, hearing dog (which we would supply), etc.

They don’t realize that, if they (meaning a business or office or doctor’s appointment), need to communicate with a deafie, they need not only to schedule one (*whichever the deaf person requests), but it must be at least 24 hours in advance of the meeting or appt. to give the agency enough time to find an interpreter for the appointment.

That doesn’t always happen with me (at least). Perhaps I’m just lucky. They say God doesn’t give us more than we can handle. I must be one big shot in the bag. Why do I say that? I cannot even begin to tell you how often Kenny takes me a long-been scheduled appt and we find no ‘terp being expected.

So, what does one do in these situations? Sure, depending on the time of day, once could call an emergency interpreter and wait around for an hour or more—only then needing to find an opening for that doctor.

The several times this has happened to me, it’s always the same thing on my end.

1. Ask them what time the interpreter is scheduled for. (Often the answer is never).
2. Literally and loudly communicate my total disappointment the place is to be seeing me.
3. Then reschedule leaving it clear this is no to happen again.
4. Go home ticked off and wait for yet another call regarding arranging a ‘terp. (I’ll believe it when I see it.)

There is one more option, but it is NOT recommended—to ask the hearing friend/family you’re there with if they’d stand in and interpret.

Let me straight with you—that is technically illegal because it is not their full language, they don’t have the schooling needed to do this, the appt is supposed to be confidential, and they don’t have a certificate. So, Kenny has been asked/forced to interpret for me at several therapy and psychiatric and medical meeting and lotsg of other places (dentists, discussions, etc). And Kenny does it, but he’s pretty ticked-off. He wants money for his efforts—with or without his certificate. And I totally agree.

My point? Respect deaf people’s needs for accommodations. Be sure to follow through with setting them up to fill their needs. After all, being deaf and surrounded by hearing people doesn’t make for a comfortable situation.

Just my opinion.

Anyone agree?

Please comment!

AH! TECHNOLOGY!

Forever gone are the days of phone booths and having to actually go and see the person you want to contact, because there’s no way for you to reach them. Here instead are such things as cell phones, video relay centers, and vibrating alarms. And, to make things even more bewildering. As fast as you can learn how to use these things, there will be updates and even newer technology to deal with.

Don’t get me wrong—I love technology. I mean, having a way to contact people while I’m out and about is an unbelievable relief. As with most deaf people, there was a time when flat tires and car accidents left us stranded with no where to turn.

Although there’s tons of things to help the deaf and hard of hearing get through life now (doorbell signalers, door knock flashers, baby cry alerts, vibrating alarm clocks, flashing fire alarms and more), one thing seems to have changed the most for us: using the phone.

Years ago, TTYs and TDDs were the way to contact people directly. If the other person didn’t have a TTY or TDD, for example, if they were hearing, the deaf and hard of hearing would call the relay center to help with the contact. We’d type. Then the center would read what we typed to the other person. They’d respond and the center would then type to us what was being said. It was great for what it was, and some people and companies do still use them, but at times it could be terribly slow and quite impersonal.

Now, text cell phones do the trick, but there’s been one improvement many people rate as top notch—the ability to use Sign Language to communicate over the phone. I’m serious! How? Video Phones (VP), computers, and even some cell phones now offer that capability.

If two people have VPs, they can simply dial directly and have a nice “face to face” conversation with each other. This can also be done through computer instant messaging programs, other computer programs such as Skype, and even your cell phone.

But now, thanks to Video Relay Services (VRS), if only the deaf or hard of hearing have VPs and they need to reach someone who doesn’t, they can still use Sign Language and call on a home-based phone line.

It works in much the same way as TTY Relay Centers work. The deaf person dials the phone number for whomever he or she is calling and is immediately connected with some an interpreter at the VRS. The interpreter there then signs with the deaf person “face to face.” VRS connects the deaf to the target person, the deaf person signs or uses his voice (whichever he’s more comfortable with), the ‘terp tells the other person what was signed (if the deaf person isn’t using Voice Carry Over—VCO), the other person responds in their regular phone and the ‘terp signs to the deaf what was said. Confusing” Maybe at first, but once you’ve done it a few times it’s pretty much a godsend.

So, technology really has come a long way for deaf and hard of hearing people. I, for one, am excited to see what comes next!

I Had The Right To Remain Silent…At Least I Think I Did…

Some things just don’t happen every day: You finding $100 in your wallet, Tom Hanks personally requesting you to co-star with him in his next Oscar-worthy movie, or your being arrested and formally charged with a DUI when you don’t even drink. Sure, a couple of those things would be wonderful to happen, but handcuffs and police stations make watching Joan Rivers’ face more appealing.

A few weeks ago, I started the day like any other. After getting everyone ready for school and forcing them to eat some breakfast whether they were hungry or not, I set off to drop my kids at their wonderful charter school. On my way home, I became parched and decided to stop at a near-by gas station to get one of my guilty pleasures of sweetened iced tea.

However, starting to pull out of the parking lot, I became distracted and very gently bumped the back bumper of the car in front of me.  With absolutely no damage whatsoever, the guy in that car insisted on having the police come to make a report. I think that was because he felt awkward dealing with a deafie and also I was acting slightly inebriated since I can’t lipread and they didn’t even understand that I was Deaf in the first place.

When the police did finally arrive at the scene, I got out of my van and started staggering around. I simply couldn’t stand up straight. I get this way when standing after sitting for a while. But it sure didn’t look like I was experiencing momentary dizziness to everyone around me! In fact, I’m sure I looked completely dead-on drunk!

Then, the officer approached me and started asking me questions. I must have informed him that I was completely deaf a million times. I also told him I couldn’t lipread and had no idea what he was saying. He pondered this for about two seconds, and then continued talking to me in exactly the same manner as before. Ugh!

I took the Breathalyzer test, which showed 0 alcohol in my body, but even that didn’t seem to matter much. I believe he read me my rights as he handcuffed me, put me in his car, and took me to jail, but there’s no way I could have understood him. Nothing was written down for me and no interpreter was present. Is that even legal? Doesn’t the rights he probably read me include a, “Do you understand these rights,” at the end? Because if he did read them to me, I surely didn’t understand. In fact, that entirely morning/experience, left me understanding absolutely nothing!

I could go on and on about what happened that day, but with a case of severe memory loss and the fact that they had me in custody for hours and hours before an interpreter showed up at the jail, (meaning I was confused and completely ignorant to anything anyone said), it wouldn’t be extremely informative.

But here I am, charged with a DUI when I don’t even drink or do drugs. They’ve even informed me that I could be facing thousands of dollars in fines and jail time to serve if convicted!

I arrived at my first court appearance and, again, there was no interpreter scheduled. We all had to wait around for more than an hour, after informing the clerk of my ‘terp needs, for one to even show up. Grrrrr…… And now they’re waiting for my blood labs to be done and reported (they did a blood/alcohol test, which will unquestionably come back as 0). Then they want to see me in court again. My hope, of course, is that they’ll dismiss the charges and leave me alone. And they’d better remember to schedule a ‘terp this time around.

So, as you can see, being Deaf and working with the police, especially if they don’t comprehend what special needs a Deaf person might have, is nothing but a big pain in the butt! Maybe this all has a reason though. Didn’t someone once say that everything happens for a reason? Maybe this is all a way of insisting I stop drinking copious amounts of sweetened tea. When you think about it, if I’d never stopped for my guilty pleasure, I would have simply gone home and enjoyed the rest of the day.

Let’s just hope that all of this takes care of itself as quickly as possible. I don’t experience worry and stress all that well. 

MY SECRET LANGUAGE AT THE ROLLER DERBY

Having no money and three months of summer to spend in the house with three adolescent kids can equal quite a bit of frustration and boredom. Oh, I’ve done my share of  drolling out chores or taking them to the park, but the park gets old after a while and chores, well, let’s just say that doesn’t exactly make the complaining stop.  Luckily, we were blessed with a little spending money the other day, so Kenny and I decided to take the family on an outing to the local roller skating rink.

I used to roller skate all the time as a kid. I was hell on wheels. Skating around my neighborhood, up and down the parking lots (we lived across the street from an elementary school) and around the playgrounds, I could really get my groove thing on. I was hot. Then I grew up. Or rather, I grew old. I tried roller skating again a year ago and fell flat on my face—which is unusual since most people actually fall on their butt. So, this time around, I brought my Nook to read while the others got their groove thing on and I decided I’d just observe.

That place was loud! How do I know? Well, when you can feel pounding in your chest from outside in the lobby, you know you’re in for a treat to your eardrums. I needn’t worry about that though, right? I just found myself a seat and preceded to enjoy feeling my entire body vibrate to rap songs for the bulk of the evening.

After getting everyone situated, they all took off to have some fun. Two of my kids made their way to the beginner’s circle and sat there. They were too intimidated by all the people—scared it would turn into some sort of roller derby on wood. They saw that I was looking at them, so they started talking to me.

”There’s too many people here,” my daughter, Natalie, signed to me.

“Just stay close to the outside and you’ll be fine,” I signed back.

Next, my son chimed in: “Look at me! I can skate on one foot! AHHH!” He fell with a smack onto the floor. But he was still proud.

After making sure he wasn’t dying or didn’t have a concussion, I turned my attention to Kenny and the oldest, Mollie. They were getting down, going around the rink at lightning speed. I tried to talk with them. They tried to watch me…until they ran into the person on their side and knocked them down. Then it DID become a roller derby of sorts. But still—we had our “secret language!” I could communicate with any one of them from where I sat (safely)—something other moms and onlookers couldn’t do.

Sure, it caused accidents and broken limbs and lots of dirty looks. But don’t all good things? The point is, I like my language. I can use it anywhere. And, most of the time, the results are very promising and good. OK. Maybe once in a while its use results in a trip to the ER. Geez. Judge much? It’s a good thing (Not the ER—the signing). I like it. And at the roller rink I got to witness it in full motion.

HUH? WHAT DID THEY JUST TRY TO SELL ME?

I was sitting around watching that wonderful game show, “Family Feud,” with Kenny the other day and a commercial came on that caught my eye. It was for a hearing aid apparatus that’s supposively so much better than an actual hearing aid, because everyone around you can’t see it. There was one problem with this commercial and that problem was the reason I only found one problem: It wasn’t captioned. I had no idea what they were saying, so I couldn’t point out the many other problems that I’m sure were there.

Now, how is a person who is struggling to hear supposed to appreciate a commercial that swears to help them hear better if they have no idea whatsoever what they’re talking about? This annoyed me to no end, so I went online to the website they provided to find the Customer Service email address. Wouldn’t you know? No email. Call only. Again, I ask you, how’s a person supposed to ask a question by phone if they need their apparatus to begin with? Am I the only one who sees the irony in this?

And this isn’t the first time I’ve seen (SEEN) a commercial about hearing “help” that wasn’t captioned and didn’t provide anything but a website and phone number. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

I won’t even go down that road that the “apparatus” was stupid anyway. Seriously, if a person needs a hearing aid, and there’s some little doohickey that swears it can do the same thing (AND conceal it) for $29.95, who’s going to spend $200 on a hearing aid? Silly, if you ask me.

What’s my point? If you have something to tell the hard of hearing community, and you want to do it on television, uh, captioning might be something to consider. Duh!

BEING INCLUDED ON A NIGHT AT THE THEATRE—WHAT A TREAT!

Every so often I try to make it a point to go out on a one-on-one date with each of my girls. I figure, if I don’t screw them up enough just on our daily interaction, a little quality time alone with me should do the trick to screw them up sufficiently that way as well.

The other night was date night with my 15-year-old, Mollie. I took her to see the stage show: “Addam’s Family—The Musical” at a fancy-schmancy performance hall.

A month ago, Kenny went to the hall to purchase two tickets. After he bought 2 balcony seats (‘cause that’s all us ‘po folk can afford, see), he decided to have a little chat with the guy in charge there. He told them all about his poor, little, old, deaf, wife and how I was gonna be bringing my dear, sweet daughter to the show. He asked if they ever offered any accessibility to their deaf and hard of hearing patrons. Not only do they, but he said that if I brought my tickets to the box office the night of the show, they’d trade them for two orchestra seats in the “interpreter’s section”! I had no idea they would have interpreters that night. In fact, I believe they made special arrangements to provide ‘terps that night just for me because Kenny asked. Cool, eh?

When Mollie and I arrived at the theatre the night of the performance, they were all ready and knowing at the box office. What a relief! She just let them know what was up and whom we needed to speak with. I handed the contact person our original tickets and he had the trade-ins all ready and waiting for us.

When they started seating, she and I walked into the theatre and there stood the two interpreters. I expected one specific woman, because she’s very well known in our area as a ‘terp for live theatre. With her was another ‘terp I know well—one I’ve worked with in the past and who had, in fact, just interpreted for me three weeks ago. We all greeted and hugged, and then Mollie and I went and sat to wait for the show to start.

Right before the show started, we moved over in front of the interpreters, so I didn’t have to keep turning my head to the right to see them and then back up front to see the stage. That’s just awkward and uncomfortable. Ironically, I was the only Deaf person there that night! Two talented ‘terps all for me. It was quite the treat.

But the bigger treat was the performance itself. Oh, the actors/singers/dancers were great and the props/sets were wonderful, but I hardly wanted to look at them at all. My gosh! These two interpreters were INCREDIBLE!!! Animated, fluid, funny, expressive, perfect. There was barely a need to even look at the stage. In fact, if the ‘terps had broken out in the show’s dance routines, I never would have looked at the stage at all.


Another really neat part was that during the curtain call, the character Gomez did the "deaf applause" and then motioned to the interpreters. Then, as the other actors "deaf applauded," he actually signed something (Mollie and I didn't catch what he said though, because we were too busy cheering the 'terps on, too). 

What a night! And I’m sure theatrical interpreting is extremely challenging. I’ve almost always been blessed with very skilled interpreters—and I use them a lot. Oh, I’ve had my fair share of scary ‘terps—‘terps who never should have been given any kind of certification. But the more I use interpreters in this area, the more skilled interps are sent for me. I’ve been very blessed in that sense.

Date night this time around turned out swell for both of us. Mollie had a blast with the show and, especially, the music and costumes. But the fact that I enjoyed the performance every bit as much as the hearing audience members thrills me to no end! That just doesn’t happen much in life. Maybe things are starting to change and look up!

"HO! HO! HUH?" TURNING A LIMP HAND TO A FELLOW DEAFIE

Every year around this time, I begin to worry. I worry that we won’t have the money or capabilities to afford gifts for our children. I worry about that a lot. My husband tells me over and over that gifts are not what Christmas is about. He’s right. Yet still I worry. I’m sure even to the point of selfishness. And every year, God proves to me that He is in charge. We’ve never had a Christmas where we walked away in want. For that I am truly grateful.

In fact, it amazes me (understatement) how many blessings are bestowed upon our family at this time of year. This year is no different. Friends, family, and anonymous donors flabbergast us as the days roll by. Cookies, candy, gift cards, even money, are placed in our hands with only “A Friend” or “Use this wherever you are in need” scribbled on a note or card.

At this time, we aren’t able to do a lot for others, but I certainly try through cards and food and any gifts I’m able to purchase. I want to give back.

Now, you would think that, with all the good coming our way, I wouldn’t have a whole lot of complaining to do. But if you do think that, you don’t know me very well. Sad to say, but I’m a whiner, and what I’m usually whining about is inequality of communication access for poor, little, old, Deaf me.

Why can’t I go see the movie I want to see? Why do I always have to settle for what they’ll give me?

Why can’t I join the group of Christmas carolers and sing my heart out?

Why doesn’t Santa Claus at the mall offer an interpreter so I can sit on his lap and tell him my inner-most thoughts? OK. That one hasn’t actually happened, but I wouldn’t put it past me.

Case in point…I hate being left out. I hate that I have to ask for assistance. I hate that I can’t enjoy things in the same, full way that many can. I hate, I hate, I hate.

Well, Bah! Humbug!

So, anyway, I’m cleaning up the kitchen yesterday afternoon and my 11-yeear-old daughter charges in. “Santa Claus is at the door.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“It means that Santa Claus is at the door. He just tapped on the glass and shouted, ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’”

Immediately I’m thinking child predator in a Santa Claus suit. OK. Not really. I walk into the living room and, sure enough, there’s Kris Kringle at the door, waving at me through the glass.

Now, we have people come to the house pretty often. Aside from a pair of Jehovah Witnesses, there’s never ever been a signer. So, I’ve simply come to expect that anyone who comes to the door—especially ones who are shouting with laughter through the glass—are obviously hearing individuals.

I smile and open the glass door. “Hi! What can I do for you, sir?” I state. No hand motions in sight.

Santa starts to speak. Afraid that he’s going to get chatty, I immediately point at my ear, shake my head and let him know I’m deaf. He looks scared. So, turning away, facing in the complete opposite direction of his eyes, I offer my son up to interpret for him. Santa doesn’t say anything. In fact, if I’m right, he looks pretty darn confused.

He gently hands me a card. I ask who it’s from and my kids say he said, “A friend.”

“Wow! Well, Merry Christmas!” I shout and he leaves us all standing at the door, wondering what in the heck just happened.

It doesn’t really matter what happened next. Suffice it to say we were overwhelmed with the goodness of the Lord with the gift that was inside that card. After a lot of talking about who we thought he might have been, we give up for the time being. An hour later, my teen girl runs into the room and signs, “He had a Deaf accent!! He had a Deaf accent!! I wasn’t sure exactly what had happened, because I couldn’t understand some of the stuff he said, but that’s why!”

So, here we had a nice and caring man, donning a Santa Claus outfit, who was, by all speculation, deaf, come to the door and I didn’t sign a single thing to him. I put that poor man in the same predicament I was whining about just earlier that same day. A Deafie had created inequality of communication access with a fellow Deafie.

I feel awful. I really do. And, no, we don’t know for sure if that man was, indeed, deaf. But the fact is, why did I presume that the person would be hearing and prefer oral communication, even when it’s the opposite of what I want? I complain that people can’t sign, and those who say they can, usually mean they can show me the ABCs over the course of 15 minutes. This man, if he was deaf, came to our door, “knowing” and expecting that he’d be able to chat. Maybe. Guess that just goes to show that it can work both ways.

I’ve learned my lesson though. I won’t assume people are hearing anymore. Besides, we all know what happens when you “assume.” You make an “ass” out of U and Me. Well, how’s that for Merry Christmas?

WHAT THE F*** DO YOU KNOW?!?!?: Should ASL Profanity Be Openly Taught?

I recently went online and decided to look up any new Deaf- and ASL-related books available on Amazon. One of them caught my eye. It was a book on the “dirty words” in Sign Language. It made me consider whether it was appropriate to teach the profanity of ASL to new students or not.

I’ve heard the debate. When James Woodward came out with his two books, “Signs of Drug Use” and “Signs of Sexual Behavior,” there was quite a bit of an uproar regarding whether that inside knowledge should be thrust out there for anyone to learn. The simple fact is that many people just want to know the profanity. They think it’s funny. Now I can call my teacher an A-hole without him knowing, or whatever. Many Deaf people felt that ASL, being their language, shouldn’t be something just given out, but rather knowledge earned.

But there is a need out there for those who are serious about learning the language…especially interpreters-in-training. They do need to know that information. How can you possibly interpret in a courtroom if you don’t know the signs for sexually-oriented concepts? The trouble lies with who has control of and access to this information.

I’ve seen people say that if a person is serious about learning ASL, then they should find a Deaf friend and ask them how to do the mature words. OK. Good idea…if it’s possible. Some people are not sure how to bring it up and some people don’t know a Deaf person well enough to ask. Although an interpreter has to overcome a lot of feelings of embarrassment (especially working with culturally Deaf people who are known for their candidness and bite), it doesn’t mean it’s easy for them to say, “So, Jared, can you please tell me in what contexts I would use this sign for F--k and which times this sign is better?” May seem easy if that kind of thing comes naturally to you, but most of the time it doesn’t.

The book in question seems to have gotten some pretty good reviews—even from Deaf individuals. So, I’m inclined to think it isn’t as controversial over 30 years after James Woodward had to deal with the uproar. I took a look inside and the pictures are poor enough that I feel you would need to already have a working knowledge of the book in order to understand the descriptions anyway. Nevertheless, I ordered it. It’s titled, "Dirty Sign Language: Everyday Slangfrom "What's Up?" to "F*%# Off!" I’ll check it out and see what my side is on this debate. In the meantime, what do you feel about teaching sign language students the “dirty” words?

YES YOU CAN!

As a teacher of ASL, I've been told many reasons (or excuses) for why a person cannot learn to sign. Sure, there's the usual, "no time," or, "too old," both of which is a matter of opinion, but very often people will tell me they can't learn to sign because of a disability they deal with on a daily basis.

I don't buy it though. Yes, there are definitely exceptions to the rule, but, in general, I don't think simply having a "disability" excludes a person from the world of ASL.

In fact, I've worked with students with various types of circumstances, including dystonia, dysphonia, MS, MD, autism, Asperger's Syndrome, apraxia, and mental retardation, and have yet to have a case where I advised them that contining to learn was useless.

Anyone can learn to sign if they truly want to. Sure, it may take a little extra time and effort, but it'll happen. So, don't let a barrier in your life cause you to miss out on this language. You can do it!!!

CAN ANYONE HELP THIS DEAF "MAGOO"???

Whenever I get into a grouchy mood, I always make sure I let my husband know by telling him, “I’m a Magoo.” In case you don’t know him, Mr. Magoo was a very happy-go-lucky, almost blind cartoon character from when I was growing up—and before. Although, in general, he was a pleasant guy, I always think of Magoo from when he played the part of “Scrooge.” I pretty sure he got grumpy (not 100% sure though, but it’s enough for me…and Kenny knows what I’m talking about anyway). Therefore, when I say, “I’m a Magoo,” he knows what I mean: I’m in my hate-everything mood.

In fact, I’ve been a Magoo for quite some time this summer. Summer is usually a total Magoo season for me. I’m stuck at home with three kids who are always “bored,” with no money to go anywhere but the library or Speedway for a slushie, and with no friends to hang with. To add to that this year, I’ve been in charge of planning my parent-in-laws’ 50^th wedding anniversary. And, after months of planning and sending out invites and buying decorations, the time has arrived for the party. It is to be held on the 16^th of July (one week and one day from today).

There is a pretty big difference between my family growing up and my husband’s family growing up. My family is a bit more formal, while his parents are pretty low-keyed and easy going (when it comes to hanging out).  So, for MY parents’ 25^th anniversary, we had a pretty fancy schmancy party. That was about 15 years ago. And this year, for KENNY’S parents’ 50^th anniversary, we rented a pavilion at a nearby park, invited family from all over the country, and will be having a BBQ. To make matters even more casual, when my mother-in-law found out about the party, she immediately decided she would be the one to prepare the lunch.

And so the plan is for us to decorate, have lunch, do a toast, eat some cake and enjoy ourselves. At least, that’s my hope….for others. For me? I’m a Magoo. Sure, I’m excited about the decorating and I really hope they have a wonderful time. But that last part – “enjoy ourselves”?? That would include “me” and that’s one I don’t know if I’ll be able to do.

There I’ll be. One solitary deaf member of the family standing around in silence while 100 other hearing people surround me. I’d say, of the 100 people that are going to be there, only four of them have been around me since I became stone deaf. No one can sign. I can’t lipread. I am not a people person. All of these things make me cringe a bit when thinking of what’s to come.

So, I did what I normally do when I’m feeling something I’m thinking is wrong: I went to the library and got myself a book on happiness. Didn’t like it. Nothing they said made me happy. Phooey on them.

Then I got a book on optimism, but I never read it because it’s probably not any good anyway.

Next was a book on how to tolerate being around anyone annoying. I couldn’t read it. The picture on the cover annoyed me and the inside picture of the author made me very unhappy and pessimistic.

Finally, I got a book on appreciation. It wasn’t bad, though it probably wasn’t very hard to write. I mean, it’s not like the author had to work very hard to say, “You got it better than you think you did, so stop whining!” Yet, it did make me feel a bit more in place. (But it wasn’t making me appreciate anything either). Kidding…….

We leave for Illinois on Monday. The party is the following Sunday. I will have paper and pen in my hands, a keyboard sitting on the side of the table I’m sitting at, and a book to read as I hide in the corner. That’s my plan. But there’s gotta be more advice out there on having a relaxing time and making communication not as difficult besides, “Ask them to write,” and such.

Perhaps you have some advice for me? How to smile and actually enjoy myself for the long party and the visiting before and after (we’re talking days). Other than, “Stick close to your husband and kids so they can interpret for you.”

So, if you have any advice, now would be a great time to give it to me. I may be a Magoo, but, if I remember correctly, he was all ears (well, all head anyway). And I’m all eyes. Hit me with it!

ONE DEAF WOMAN'S EXPERIENCE IN A SEEMINGLY HOPELESS SITUATION

Being the wife of an airport/government employee, you would think that flying wouldn’t make me nervous. Ha! You’d be wrong. However, since we have very little money, we haven’t gone anywhere by air in the past few years, anyway. However, driving? Now, that’s a different issue altogether.

There was a time, not too long ago, when driving anywhere alone was quite risky for me. We didn’t have great cars, so there was always a chance that the car could fall ill and break down. In fact, I remember very well the time I changed this assumption to the truth.

About ten years ago, we didn’t have a “phone” for me to carry. I just had to say a prayer and hope. Sometimes the hope kind of leaves things adrift.

So, there I was, driving on the highway and passing East St. Louis, IL. If you know the place, you also know that it’s been rated one of the most dangerous cities -- at least in America. Bad place. Bad. We’re talking machetes and tuberculosis. OK. Maybe not TB. I’m trying to set a mood here!

This particular night, as I drove past, I hit a bump and one of my back wheels exploded. What do I do?? I thought to myself. I don’t know how to change a tire, no one is stopping to help me, I’m right outside of East St. Louis, it’s about 9 PM, so it’s really dark, I have nothing with me to contact anyone, and Kenny just happens to be at a very small church that doesn’t answer their phone when there’s a service going on. Oy vey!

I didn’t have much of a choice, so I decided I would walk into East St. Louis and try to find a phone. Problem: I can’t use a normal phone! So I would need to walk up the highway exit ramp, try to stay in the light (street lights didn’t work in most places), find a pay phone, and then ask someone who happens by to make the call for me. No problemo. Ya think? Not to mention that I couldn’t call Kenny, so I would need to call my parents collect and then try to explain where I was and then walk back to the car.

Aha! All I knew is that I was either gonna die in my car or die on the street (or at a gas station). Basically put: Death was impending in this situation. But, given those two choices, I had to go with the death in the hood. That would let people know that we deafies have some chutzpa and that I’m a tough broad. I liked it. I’ve always wanted to be mysterious.

I was terrified, but I had no real options, so I left my comfortable, but ill car in search of humans who would flap their lips as well as I flapped my hands. I truly was not prepared for this, but that seemed OK, as it turned out that some man pulled over to the side of the highway as I was walking to my impending doom. He asked me a few things, but I just yelled, “I’m Deaf. Can you take me to a phone?” That in itself was pretty darn scary. I didn’t know this guy, but I was at fate’s mercy by this time.

(Hey! Now that I think of it, it doesn’t make sense. This looked like a well-off man. Why didn’t he have a cell phone? Hmmm…)

I got in the car and he started saying something about me walking into East St. Louis, especially at night, was NOT something he recommended. I was so relieved that he helped though! So, it turns out there IS life on this planet (inserted line from “What Women Want,” in case you don’t know).

He drove me to a phone and called my mother for me. He said something and then wrote (yes, I did have my handy dandy notebook), “Your mother wants to talk to you.” He, of course, had to interpret. When I got on the phone though, my mom was freaking out. “How are you?” “Are you safe?” “This man could rape you and kill you!” Gee, thanks Mom. That’s one thing to look forward to. My saving grace got back on the phone and told her we were on Hwy 70. Then he took me back to my car. I was lucky in so many ways!

I waited for my dad to come to get me, but it took over an hour and they only lived within a 10 to 15 minute drive. I was starting to get worried when my dad showed up. Apparently, the man said I was on 70, when I was actually on 270. Dad got tired of driving up and down 70, trying to see if he’d missed me, and then finally told himself to just drive down 270 and see. Sure enough! Victory!!!! PAH!

The point is, now, anytime I’m on the road, I’m terrified to know if it’s going to break down. Although I now have a Sidekick and that helps immensely, it only does text messages. I would not know what to do or who to contact! My husband gets a ride to work with a friend, so he wouldn’t be able to drive and help me…but let’s leave this story on a positive note.

I mean, I could go on about getting lost and trying to find someone to read my notebook, where I wrote my questions and understand they need to write to me! But pshaw! I shall always persevere! 

Me? I’m not scared of flying, it’s the falling from the sky, crashing and bleeding that gets me. But I’m a lot more comfortable knowing I can have a fairly worried free trip via air instead of traveling (alone) by car. At least one of my cars…

AND.....CUE!

The Whitman’s were due for dinner and, knowing I would be the only deaf person here and that they don’t use sign language, I tried my best to brace myself for what was to come. As Dr. Phil would say, “This wasn’t my first rodeo.” I had my paper and pen, but, because my husband, Kenny, was going to be there, he was planning on interpreting. That was nice of him, wasn’t it?

As the guests arrived, Kenny and I stood at the door to welcome them. What I found myself face-to-face with was an elderly woman with blood-red lipstick that seemed to follow the wrinkles in the skin above her upper lip (making it seem she had a bright red mustache) and a man with a Frito-catcher around his face that would rival even Old St. Nick himself. Wow! If I were ever going to need a pen and paper or an interpreter, tonight would be the night!

We said our hellos, hugged, hung up their coats and got them a drink. I should have gotten me a stiff one, too. While all of that was taking place, Kenny engaged in a nice conversation with them, making sure to sign his part. But, honestly, I was not all that interested, so I busied myself in preparing the dinner table.

After I was done, all four of us sat down at the table to eat. This can be looked at as gross or upsetting on so many levels. First and foremost, there’s the fact that here sat at least two people who don’t understand why talking with their mouth full bothers me more than it seems to bother other people. What planet did they come from? Where in the Solar System does it say that it’s considered polite and OK to spit out their mashed potatoes at the same time they’re spitting out their consonants? Ew! That has always been a pet peeve of mine and it doesn’t necessarily have to do with being deaf and paying more attention to their faces and lips. Besides, what lips?

The bulk of the frustration I was dealing with was our chitchat. As the four of us sat around, Kenny would interpret what they were saying and he would be sure to sign what he was saying. The problem I ran into is the pattern it left:

They speak.

Kenny turns to me and signs what they said.

All people in the room watch me for my reaction to what was said.

All night long, they would talk and, when Kenny went to include me, everyone got a expectant face and wanted to know what I thought. I despise being the center of attention. I mean, make me some wallpaper that kind of blends into the paint and I’d be very happy. But when we have people over who don’t sign, this is what happens.

Sure, I could ask them to write to me instead of having Kenny interpret, but it seems a little odd to say, “You know, I hate it when my husband signs to me. Can you write that down?”

Perhaps it’s just me, but it seems redundant when he could have just as easily told me what was being said. It just bugs the bejeebas out of me when everyone wants to look at me for a reaction. I mean, sometimes I don’t have a reaction. I’m not going to look all excited and responsive with every single sentence. Just let me hang out. Don’t put me on cue. It’s just too much pressure. You know? I feel like it’s almost a, “Let’s see how the Deaf woman reacts,” kind of thing.

Kenny (signing and speaking): How many children do you have?

Guest (speaking only): I have three kids.

Kenny (interprets): Three children.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me (signing and sometimes speaking): Wow! Three kids? That’s great!

But, really, what’s so great about it? I have three kids. I’d gladly give away one or two sometimes. But I don’t think me having three warrants a “great” response.

So, I tried another scenario:

Kenny (signing and speaking): Where do your kids go to school?

Guest (speaking only): They attend Grandville Middle School.

Kenny (interprets): Grandville Middle School.

Everyone looks at me to see my response.

Me: I nod my head with no real expression on my face. (Thinking: OK. Let’s move on.)

I mean, who cares? He’s just being polite. Why must I have a polite and positive reaction to every single thing we talk about? It’s exhausting!

I just want to be another face in the crowd. I want to socialize with people who are involved in my hearing kids’ lives, but I can’t be expected to do cartwheels and the Victory Dance after every tidbit of information.

Yes, I used to do theatre and such, and yes, I know what being on cue means. But No, I don’t like being in the spotlight and on cue all the time.

The question is (besides asking them to write something down), how do I get involved in the conversations with hearing folk (like in a group) who are standing around gabbing? Kenny interprets and that helps break the barrier down, but then everyone wants to see him sign to me and my reaction to that and that’s just annoying. That’s the word. Annoyed.

I’m a friendly person. I enjoy other people’s company, but I find socializing with hearing people who don’t sign to be just too tricky. Hey, people! Talk to me, involve me, but, please, don’t place such a huge expectation on me. I am not on cue.

TELL ME YOUR SECRETS -- A Deaf Person's Lack of Privacy

The Deaf Community is a tight-knit group in which deaf and hearing alike can get together and socialize. The hearies in this group consist of many different people, not the least of which are the interpreters in any given area. 

As a member of the Deaf Community, I often find myself friends with the very people who provide interpretation for my appointments, entertainment, education, etc. That, in and of itself, is great! Any person I can get to tolerate me enough to have a conversation, is more than welcome to come my way! And there are some awesome interpreters around here. Oh, don’t get me wrong; there are a few doozies….

I once went to see a doctor and the interpreter couldn’t understand my signing or keep up with the doctor’s speaking. The doc and me ended up writing back and forth while the ‘terp sat there and watched/read. Wow! And she got paid for that?? But that’s another blog entry all together….

Anyway, it seems to me a little unfair and awkward that interpreters in my area know so much about my private life via ‘terping for my appointments. And, believe me, my private life is frightening at times. Heck, I’m frightening at times.

But there’s one particular aspect of my life that I don’t really want to share. But, because this is a blog of my experiences, I’m just going to open myself up here to say that I am disabled because of a severe mental illness. Yes, I’m stone deaf, too, but that doesn’t strike me as a disability when compared to what I have to go through because of a brain disorder.

So, this morning, I wasn’t doing very well. OK. I was doing terribly! I had an emergency appointment to see my psychiatrist and there was, of course, an interpreter scheduled. I definitely have a first choice in interpreters, but sometimes that person isn’t available and, today, that was the case.

One of the effects of my condition is that it becomes difficult for me to show expression in my face. My voice becomes monotone and quiet (so I’m told), too. It’s a total 180 from what people usually see in me. Usually I’m full of zest and friendly and chatty. I usually take care of my appearance, wear clean clothes, and put on make up when I have an appointment. But, because I’m relapsing, I did none of that today—well, this week, in fact.

I shuffled (literally) into the office lobby, registered, and sat down.  My interpreter arrived about two minutes after I did and I could tell she was in a good mood and ready to talk about our latest adventures. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even look at her. I just sat there, husband beside me, staring into space. Barbie (the ‘terp) was a little put back. However, I will say she was totally professional and kind about the situation.

When it came time for me to talk with my doctor for a medicine change, I had to relay information about my condition and recent experiences to him. This is something very personal and that holds a great amount of stigma. I haven’t shared my disorder with anyone except my immediate family (husband and children). And I certainly didn’t want someone whom I love hanging out with at Deaf events, finding out how sick I am by listening to me ramble on to my doctor.

It just doesn’t seem right for an interpreter to know everything personal about me, because they’ve been at the appointments; and yet I only know what they’ve felt comfortable opening up and telling me about them. Why do they get to know it all?

I guess it’s a dilemma that will go on forever. We deafies need interpreters and, in order to understand, someone has to sit in and listen to our private thoughts and problems. Professionally, I have yet to meet an interpreter who has taken that knowledge and done something disrespectful (that I know of). Actually, that’s not true. But I’ll save that for another post, too.

However, interpreters are only human. You sit in and listen to someone talk psychotically and it’s going to affect you. You’re going to have feelings about what you’re hearing. I’m not saying everyone will harbor those feelings, but everyone will have some. ‘Terps included.

So, here I sit in my living room. After spilling my beans, my life, and my secrets, I sit here naked (metaphorically—the other option is just plain old creepy), knowing that Barbie knows my soul is warped. I’m not afraid she’ll go off and tell people. I know she won’t. But I hate the fact that she knows now and there weren’t a lot of options to stop her (or someone who was called to interpret) from knowing.

Perhaps video interpreting will become popular and I’ll have ‘terps from around the country—not people down the street that have a potluck on Memorial Day. But until then, I need to figure out how to accept that my secrets won’t always be my secrets. If I get an STD (I won’t—don’t worry), there’s going to be at least one person out there in the Deaf Community who knows, because they interpreted the appointment. And if I’m crazy, there’s going to be someone out there who knows that, too.  Check.