Can your child hear properly?
A recent report by the Canadian Infant Hearing Task Force reveals many provinces and territories still have inadequate hearing detection and intervention programs.
A press release muses that, here it is 2016, and some children born in Canada have access to adequate programs and some do not.
Emphasized are the consequences of undiagnosed or untreated hearing loss.
“If hearing loss is undiagnosed and untreated, especially during those early years of a child’s life, it can result in long-term linguistic, cognitive, academic, social and emotional difficulties,” says Dr. Steve Aiken, Canadian Infant Hearing Task Force chair.
Scary stuff, for sure. Perhaps before health care professionals reach for the Ritalin prescription they should administer a hearing test.
I am hearing impaired, a condition that went undiagnosed until I was in my 20s. In my formative years, I don’t seem to have suffered any of the difficulties listed, but some may disagree, especially in terms of the “cognitive” aspect. But recent history aside, I’ve managed fairly well with my condition.
There’s really no mystery surrounding 20 years of being undiagnosed. For starters I’m told I was a placid child. The second youngest of six, my sleeping quarters were in the family living room, where even Santa could pay a visit without rousing me. Since I was so well adjusted and easy to get along with no one was looking for solutions.
My school was in a small rural village with small classrooms and good teachers. I excelled at academics, if not athletics, and really didn’t have any more social difficulties than any other adolescent. Except, I do recall getting “shushed” on occasion for making some rude remark that I assumed was out of the earshot of the person I was slamming. I assumed no one else could hear from that distance either.
It’s somewhat like getting glasses for the first time. Until you put on the spectacles, you have no idea the world’s objects should be that clearly defined.
I also remember going off to the elementary school storeroom where the public health nurse would strap a headphone over my ears and put me through a series of “beep” tests. Apparently I passed, not exactly reliable technology.
It all came to light when I was taking the Journalism Arts program at SAIT in Calgary. My new friends there were constantly ribbing me, as my brothers always did, about being deaf. Finally, at their prompting, I went off to the campus clinic. There I was put into a soundproof booth and put through a battery of tests, including spoken words when I couldn’t see the person speaking.
At the conclusion of the exam, the audiologist looked at her chart, looked back at me and said, “My dear, you lip read way more than you know.”
A specialist later confirmed I have a congenital hearing impairment that basically means the nerve that takes the sound news from my ears to my brain did not form properly while I was in my mother’s womb.
So, yeah, for all my detractors out there who have suspected it all along, I have brain damage.
In the years since I’ve become something of an expert in all things hearing aids, another imperfect technology, but somewhat helpful. Lip reading still gets me through the day.
But back to the topic of infant hearing screening, I was lucky in that I grew up in such a sheltered atmosphere I was able to develop the skills I needed, mainly lip reading, to survive. In today’s world children face so many more challenges, any condition that could impair their ability to communicate, learn and interact could be devastating.
Governments should pay heed to the Canadian Infant Hearing Task Force and ensure all children across the country have equal access to testing and treatment.
