Talking to Somebody Who is Deaf in One Ear

"Jo!"

I'm out in the street, so it's a wonder that I heard my name being called at all. But there's a lull in the traffic and I'm away from the main pedestrian hubs.

The urgency in the tone alerts me to the fact that this probably isn't the first time that she's called me. There's psychological pressure on me to find her fast. I don't want to appear impolite.

Single-sided deafness means that I have no direction of sound, but I do have eyes. I quickly scan the road ahead of me to no avail. Then I turn around, looking until I spot the source. It's my friend and she's waving from the doorstep of her house. "Finally, you deaf cow! Come and have a cuppa. I've got news!"

I wander across the road, taking care to look for traffic. I can hear vehicles, but have no way of knowing if they're approaching or moving away. The only way to gauge their distance is to see them.

Once through the front door, I'm engulfed in a cacophony of noise. There's no depth to it, just a flat wall of sound seeming all to derive from my left side. (I'm deaf in my right ear.) The television is on. A soap opera blares out a constant stream of words, which clash and merge with those spoken by the other two people in the room.

My friend has possibly said something. I don't know. She's gestured towards the settee and that subconscious bit of body language has provided me with a clue. I'm being invited to sit down, while she disappears into the kitchen. This is a British home. She will be making a cup of tea to demonstrate how welcome I am in her home.

I feel disorientated, because it's hard to think with that white noise distracting me. My instinct is to switch the television off and yell at everyone to shut up. But etiquette demands the opposite reaction.

I'm to be on red alert. I'm to watch every person present, in case their attention or moving lips indicates that they have spoken. Unfortunately, that focus often prompts people into conversation. I'm now lip-reading and watching their non-verbal communication.

All the time, the noise feels like something physical to be warded away. It comes and goes. Just one source of sound is fine. I can hear it. As soon as there are two, it's like I've been slapped. The television and conversation over the top is the most common situation in which I have to suffer this.

Her husband has a beard and mustache. I cannot see his lips moving, though his gaze and the laughter of his teenage son tell me that I'm ignoring him. I feel like a stuck record, repeating this every time I'm here, but out it comes again, "I'm sorry. I'm deaf in one ear. What did you say?"

Whatever the response was, it must have been funny. It was probably a light-hearted joke about deafness. People are full of those. It breaks the tension, which so many seem to feel at the prospect of silence. He reaches forward for the remote control and I catch his broad smile. He wants to be helpful. He switches on the subtitles, so I can watch the television too.

And the noise goes on. Too much of it and I feel silently dizzy. I'm getting a headache from having to concentrate so hard. I start sentences with an apology, because I missed the thread of the conversation. It's not just the volume. It's not just the sound. It's the sheer scale of it all, like an assault, when they're all trying to be so welcoming.

Being profoundly deaf in one ear is a totally different circumstance to total deafness, or even other types of partial hearing impairment.

It is stereo hearing that provides depth and direction to sound. Both of your ears will pick up the audio and then your brain will triangulate the location.

The slight variances in volume will position the source closer or further away. In this way, they work together to allow background noise to stay in the background, or your attention to lift one sound from the mass of it. Even someone with reduced hearing in one ear will be able to deduce audio information in the same way.

Those with completely unilateral hearing do not have this ability.  For us, every sound is in the same place, indivisible from the rest.

If my fictitious friend had been aware, in my opening worst case scenario, then it could have played out much differently. Firstly she would have waited until there was no background noise before calling my name. She would have included her location in the shout. "Jo! Turn around, I'm behind you!" 

No initial anxiety then. I'm not only certain that I heard first time (achievement for the win!), but she's told me from the outset that she's got my back. She knows me and she is welcoming me.

Once inside her home, the television would have been removed from the equation. It could have been switched off and muted, but that isn't really fair on those who were watching it. Better still would have been to invite me into the kitchen with her. With the door closed, we have a quiet place.

People with single-sided deafness can hear perfectly well, if there are no competing sounds. I have known a few individuals for years, without them ever learning that I am deaf in one ear. The reason is that I've only ever spoken to them, one on one, in a relaxed, quiet environment.

Finally, if we were to stay in the lounge, with the television off, then my deaf aware hostess could monitor the conversation. Everyone taking turns to talk is just fine. But if over-excitement or enthusiasm means that people start speaking over the top of each other, then my friend would intercede. "One at a time, you lot. Jo's partially deaf."  A smile, a little wink, all is well in the world again.

I would naturally like to hear from anyone who has anything to say on this issue.  Please just chat away below in the usual way.

But I would especially welcome comments from people who either are deaf in one ear, or else know somebody who is.

Have you any insights and tips on how people could be more aware of the issues surrounding unilateral hearing?  How do you cope in noisy situations?  How do you make your one-sided deaf friend feel welcome in your company?