Suffering in silence

IT'S the sound of the toast that really gets to me. Paul O'Connell and I are sitting across from each other at a little tea-shop in Malton trying to have a sensible conversation, and every time I chew on my toast his voice is drowned out by a roaring, crunching sound that seems to come from deep inside my ears.

I end up trying to time my jaw movements so I can hear what Paul is saying between bites.

"Hard of hearing people are very good people to employ," he's telling me, his voice sounding muffled and impossibly far away.

"We don't waste time on office gossip. If we do, we just end up making fools of ourselves and the whole office collapses with laughter. After a while you don't bother."

I nod sagely, having difficulty coming to terms with my own 'deafness', while Paul claps a hand to his ear and winces as a waitress lays out a knife and fork with a clatter at the next table.

The problem with hearing aids, explains the former offshore sales engineer, now a volunteer at the Resource Centre for Deafened People in York, is that they don't filter out background sounds the way the brain does automatically for hearing people. The clatter of cutlery or the sound of high-pitched voices can be positively painful.

It can lead to odd little games of musical chairs when he goes out for a meal, he admits. Like Wild Bill Hickok, only for different reasons, he likes to sit with his back to a wall. It helps to cut out some of the unwanted sounds and makes it easier to talk to his companions. "I'd normally be sitting beside the window now," he says.

I strain to hear and then grin, resisting the temptation to say 'eh'? "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asks, grinning back.

I should say here that I am merely simulating the experience of deafness, courtesy of some ear plugs expertly inserted by hearing aid audiologist Michael Ingledow, who runs regular clinics at Scrivens in Malton. Paul is genuinely hard of hearing. My deafness will last only for an hour: his is for the rest of his life.

Meal over, I get up and walk across to the counter to pay. I've only been 'deaf' for 45 minutes, and I've lost only about one third of my hearing (half the hearing loss experienced by Paul, who describes himself as 'moderately deaf') but I feel isolated, cut off from the outside world.

The only noises that seem loud are those that are generated internally: the thump of my feet as they hit the floor, transmitted through my body; the swish as I swallow my tea; the deafening rasp as I rub my chin; even the sound of my own breathing. These internal sounds drown out the sound of what's happening 'outside'. It's strangely isolating: a little like being under water.

When I ask for the bill, I can hardly hear as the waitress tells me how much it is and have to resort to peering at the till receipt.

It's a common experience, Paul tells me, as we head outside again. His pockets bulge with change, because when he goes to a shop he can never hear when the assistant tells him how much to pay, and so always proffers a £5 note.

He also has difficulty asking people in shops where to find something on the shelves. Assistants will often just wave vaguely and give spoken directions, he says. "I'll say 'I'm deaf, so I didn't hear what you said'," he says. "A lot of hard of hearing people won't say that, and they just roll around in the store." He pauses. "I've done that," he admits. "I've spent ten to 15 minutes looking, then either gone back to ask for directions again, or just given up."

Most people, once they know you are deaf, do go out of their way to help, Paul says. There are ways to make it easier for a partially deaf person to understand you - the Resource Centre for Deafened People, in fact, has produced a leaflet with handy tips (see panel).

You always get the odd few. On one wall in the Resource Centre there's a poster which says: "I want the world to know that I'm deaf, not stupid."

More people should be aware of what it means to be deaf. By the time they reach 61, almost half of all people in the UK will experience some hearing loss and almost one in five will be moderately deaf, like Paul.

Until you experience it yourself, though, it's probably impossible to fully appreciate just how isolated deafness or hearing loss can make you. It's something Paul is eloquent about.

"There are quite a high percentage of people living in a silent world," Paul says. "Husbands and wives don't talk to each other because they have to shout. They stop communicating, which is pretty sad. There are some older people who don't talk to anyone from one week to the next, and who don't hear anything either. I'm in a semi-silent world, and I think it must be dreadful not to hear anything at all."

Deafness can often develop quite slowly: so if you are going deaf you may not realise it and blame other people for mumbling or not speaking clearly.

Typical signs to look out for, according to the Royal National Institute for the Deaf (RNID), include problems understanding what's being said when you are in a noisy place, people complaining your TV is too loud, and constantly having to ask people to repeat things.

Many people are worried by the thought of losing their hearing, the RNID concedes, and may not want to admit they have a problem. But if they have, the sooner they do something about it, the better.

Paul wouldn't disagree with that. He first began to have problems 11 years ago at the age of 54, and for a long time denied them. "I would go to meetings, and feel I was quite clever that I could shut off conversations that I wasn't interested in!" he jokes. "But actually it wasn't that. I was going deaf!"

His family were the first to cotton on. "I wasn't hearing what they were talking about around the dinner table," he says. "My wife said I must go to the doctor."

He did and was told he needed a hearing aid. It was fitted at a London hospital and Paul will never forget the moment when he first emerged into the hospital grounds.

"I heard birds singing," he says. "The hospital gardens were landscaped, and there were trees everywhere. I just stood still and listened to the birds singing. I've never forgotten it."

Communicating with hard of hearing people:

- Look directly at the person

- Speak slowly and clearly, but don't shout

- Don't put your hands in front of your mouth

- Use facial expression and body language to help get across your meaning

- Make sure there is not too much background noise

- Be patient

- If you're not understood, try rephrasing what you said

The Resource Centre for Deafened People is open every Thursday between 10am and 5pm, and other times by appointment. It can give advice on a range of hearing and home aids for deaf and hard of hearing people. Call 01904 626583.

The Royal National Institute for the Deaf also has a helpline for advice and information. Call 0870 60 50 123.