Vibrations

The doctor at age 7 told my mother he estimated that I would be profoundly deaf by age 10. His estimate was close, as I was told I was completely and profoundly deaf at age 9. As a young boy such as myself who was already unsure of the world and deeply insecure, the transition for me was frightening.

Music went from a beautiful flow of notes and echoes to only a humming vibration I could feel through my very core.

The ocean’s roaring waves went from a deep crash of the surf to a dim sensation on the soles of my feet.

My parents loud arguing and slamming doors downstairs went from me constantly cringing in fear of the noise to just tingles of anxiety on the tips of my toes.

I was ok at lip reading, having learned as my hearing gradually vanished, but even though I could understand people, it didn’t encourage me to make friends. I was often bullied, but I learned to just ignore them, I couldn’t hear them if I wasn’t looking at them.

My parents meanwhile never really interacted much with me after the diagnosis. We grew further and further apart to the point we ignored each other in the house. I left at age 18 as soon as I graduated high school without a care in the world. I knew the world was going to be a cruel place, a thankless wasteland of people who didn’t see the world I did but I figured I was ready.

I bought a small house by the sea and started working as cook for a modest diner by the coast. It was a quiet job at first, where nobody bothered me. Except for those rare times a customer yelled at me before for messing their order up. Often all one of my two managers, Sam, has to say is “Sorry, that’s Jamie, he’s deaf.” Then immediately people get all mushy and fake and allegedly fill the air with the sounds of their pity and many apologies as I stare blankly at them.

One day one of my new managers, a middle-aged man named Chris, began to yell at me. His lips were moving to fast for me read them. I caught tiny bits like, “useless.” and “wrong.” I cringed as he advanced and continue to yell. I looked away; I couldn’t hear him if I looked away. I try my best. Why is he yelling? He pushed me against the wall and grabbed my chin, so my eyes met his. I caught, “Ignore me.” My co-worker Kim was trying to stop him. Her lips moving too fast for me to follow. My new manager still looked furious but stopped, seeing I wasn’t worth his time. Something she had said had worked. He stormed off and silent tears ran down my face. I couldn’t help it. I did my best… I really did.

I kept working there, day after day. I followed instructions best I could. My awareness was limited due to my lack of hearing making it hard to work with everyone in the kitchen. People avoided talking to me unless I made a mistake, it made them uncomfortable that I was deaf, so more or less I was often unacknowledged. I was often yelled at for silly mistakes, but I couldn’t make a scene. I couldn’t afford to lose this job. Who else would take me?

My co-worker Kim spoke very clearly and at a good pace. She didn’t exaggerate her lips which makes it harder for me to understand. She also didn’t speak very fast so I could catch what she was saying. She would often translate for me. I could never read one of the older cooks, Carl, he had a stroke five years ago and his lip pattern was peculiar. She would repeat what he said so I could figure it out.

One time there was a weird special order and Carl was trying to explain it to me. Kim translated and I still didn’t understand. Carl was getting fed up and Kim looked tired. She grabbed a pen and wrote it down on the paper. I struggled to read the writing my brain piecing together the letters. Oh. No potatoes in the scramble... I nodded self-consciously and started on the order.

It took eight weeks of constant trying, but I learned to figure out the individual cooks' lip patterns, but I did it. It didn’t mean they were and kinder to me. One day Kim told me one of the new cooks Jack said to her after she got onto him, “I don’t fricking talk to stupid deaf people! Let alone say thank you, he doesn’t understand it anyway.” I didn’t let it offend me. I guess I, I understood. What I didn’t understand was why people were so mean about it. I didn’t do anything. Why was being deaf considered a disability and a reason for people to think I was stupid. I asked Kim this. She said she wasn’t sure. She said that it wasn’t fair to me. I tend to agree with her, but I needed the job.

Chris and Jack both hated me. Sam and Kim were on my side. Then everyone else seemed to be neutral. Even though I was friendly to everyone in the kitchen, I avoided Chris and Jack. I could not escape them. The kitchen was small. The best I could do was stay quiet and out of their way. They never thanked me, and they yelled at the smallest mistakes I made. I would do anything to avoid them.

One day Chris yelled at me for forgetting the bacon in a scramble. I was in the back prepping and trying to finish my other orders. It was my busiest day. I was so frazzled that I kept forgetting everything. He yelled at me again, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying, no one came to help me.

Kim tried asked me later why I didn’t quit. I grabbed a note pad and wrote with my sloppy handwriting. Money. She said there were other jobs. I wasn’t sure how to express other places would not take me. I could barely work here, let alone other places. So, I just shrugged at her.

Kim tried to remind me that the kitchen was obviously hard on

a deaf person like myself. She said that if I had a chance to work in a quieter

setting, I should look for it. I am sure she was trying to help me, but she didn’t

understand. I couldn’t speak well. I was self-conscious about it, she knew.

It was one of those days I thought about quitting that Kim came back and said she met a young man with a deaf son that lived in about 30 minutes away that recently started a photography business. She gave me the son’s Teletypewriter number and encouraged me to reach out to the son. I did and the job sounded lovely, he seemed very nice. It also made more money than I did now. I wouldn’t have to speak, and the father was familiar with lipreading. It seemed too good to be true. I had an interview. I got the job. I quit my old job immediately. I thanked Kim profusely and I never looked back at that horrible, draining, thankless job.